


Devils Roll The Dice

by ephemeralstark



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Another Bad Guy Wants Earth, Awesome May Parker (Spider-Man), Bad Situations, Explicit Language, F/M, Good Peter, Homeless Peter Parker, Hurt Peter Parker, Nightmares, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Mess, Peter is Traumatised by FFH, Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective May Parker (Spider-Man), Protective Tony Stark, Starvation, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony comes back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:41:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24706984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ephemeralstark/pseuds/ephemeralstark
Summary: “I miss you Mr. Stark,” Peter admitted as he stared up through the leaves overhead at the stars that twinkled promisingly at him, “I wish you were back here. I would give anything to fix things, I would give anything for you to be alive today.”What Peter didn't know, as he made that wish and closed his eyes, letting the tears fall shamefully, was that the Universe was always listening, and it was dangerous to make a wish and offer up anything.-Tony Stark wakes up in his bed one morning, not realising that months have passed since his death - that's going to be awkward to explain to the world.Peter Parker has been living on the streets, trying to hide his identity as the entire world wants Spider-Man dead, and dealing with the trauma that Beck left him. To make things worse - it's now his fault that yet another bad guy thinks they're entitled to owning Earth.
Relationships: Happy Hogan/May Parker (Spider-Man), Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 132
Kudos: 625
Collections: Spider-Man Public Identity Reveal





	1. Peter makes a wish

**Author's Note:**

> me? starting _another_ wip when i haven't finished my others? it's more likely than you think... 
> 
> strap yourselves in, this is gonna be another long 'un

Grime coated the walls of the abandoned building that Peter found himself in; coughs echoed off the walls as the air was thick with second-hand smoke. He tugged his hat down further to hide his face from the peering eyes that watched him from every shadowed corner. 

“Hey, Kid, wanna make a quick buck?” A jeering voice called after him, making him shiver and pull his jacket tighter around his body even though it wasn’t cold. “Hey! I’m talking to you, fucker!” 

_Keep your head down, Peter, don't look at him, it’ll make it worse. Pretend you don't know that he’s shouting after you._ Peter told himself as he did anytime a jeering comment was thrown his way - better that they assume that he was just a homeless nobody than realise that he was Peter Parker, the kid who had recently been outed as Spider-Man. 

Peter’s Spider-Sense was thrumming continuously, something that he had grown used to as it hadn't stopped since that fateful day when he’d been having a nice time with MJ and looked up to see his face plastered all over the screens that surrounded him. He hadn't been safe since a dead man had outsmarted him and exposed his identity. 

Now the world was out for his blood, because of course they would act first and think second. Peter had hoped in the beginning that he would have been able to prove his innocence to them all, but he should have known better. People were sheep - as soon as one started to point the finger, others followed. 

“Move on, this is my space, you cretin.” A raspy voice said as Peter slowed down, thinking he’d found a good spot to curl up in for the night.

He didn't look at the person who had spoken, instead choosing to walk on, hoping he hadn't drawn too much attention to himself - would they even recognise him anymore? With his overgrown curls falling in his eyes and dirt coating every inch of his skin? Would they even be able to see through all of that and spot the shamed hero underneath who had once been their protector? Before they had all turned their backs on him. 

_I miss you, May,_ he thought to himself as he found himself in an empty corner, letting his jacket slide down the murky wallpaper and ripping it slightly as he slid down to the rotting floorboards. He was next to the window, and facing the door, and while that may have made him colder it was the safest option in the long run - he could escape if he had to. 

“And then I pummelled him,” a rapacious laugh interrupted a voice that bore the hints of years of smoking, “the little brat told me he had nothin’ and I got fifty bucks from him in the end.”

“He didn’ want to give it up?” Another voice asked. 

“Course not, the stupid brat thought he could take _me.”_

As if Peter needed any more reminders of the kind of situation he was in, he could always hear violence. It came from every corner of the place because the ones who didn't want to fight or be noticed, the ones like Peter - they were silent. They tried their best to be invisible and not catch any eyes, they didn't want trouble and they didn't want someone who did, to realise they were there. 

Peter didn't sleep well anymore, he would rest his eyes and let his Spidey-Sense keep an eye out for him, but that wasn't properly resting. Back in the beginning, he had naively thought that he would have been able to crawl up onto a tall building and safely sleep there - that had been foolish of him. He rubbed at the three-inch scar on his thigh as he tried not to remember the pain and fear of that evening. 

And then something that Peter dreaded hearing rang out through the building in an ugly symphony of terrified voices. 

“Police!” 

“Run! Clear out!” 

“Police!” 

“Someone fucking ratted us out, move it!” 

Peter jumped up instantly, feeling his legs cramp beneath his weight, but knowing that he couldn't do anything but move. They couldn't get him, they’d kill him, or hand him over to others that would do the job for them. He was going to lose everything if he got caught - he had no choice, he had to run as though his life depended on it, because in that moment it absolutely did. 

He sprinted, pushing past people who hollered abuse after him, past the people who promised to gut him like a fish once they got their hands on him, but he couldn't let himself take their threats seriously, he had to force his overly tired and malnourished body to keep moving. 

He had to.

For May. 

One day he had promised himself that he would be able to see her again, but he needed to stay alive long enough to clear his name in order to do so. Back in the beginning she had been arrested for harbouring a fugitive and she’d had her life torn apart by officials until they managed to prove that she hadn't seen him since his identity reveal – staying away during that time had been one of the hardest things Peter had done, but he’d known that it was for the best. 

She hadn't seen him, but of course he had seen her, from a distance. He had watched as she had pleaded for him to come home, as she had cried herself to sleep, as she had downed a bottle of wine and cursed the universe for taking her husband and her baby. 

Peter had wanted nothing more than to run to her and hold her close, but he couldn't do that, because his senses could pick up the faint thrumming of electricity and careful whirring as cameras scanned the area, cameras that hadn't been there when he had been - cameras that had been planted to try and catch him returning home, incriminating his Aunt. 

So, Peter had whispered a quick goodbye to the air, and turned his back on his only remaining family member. 

He had promised himself that he would clear his name, but as he sprinted through a slowly rotting building, full of others who had muttered their intents to do the same, he knew that his hope was slowly ebbing away. 

It wasn't like he had Mr. Stark to help him, and the E.D.I.T.H. glasses had ended up in a case hidden on his person, he couldn't bring himself to use them - not after all the damage he had caused just by having them for a short period. 

_Arguably, the damage was caused by giving them away,_ Peter’s mind whispered, but he shut it down along with the temptation to pull them out, _I don't deserve them, Mr. Stark made a mistake giving them to me. Why didn't he know better than to do such a thing?_

Peter would never know the answer to that question. 

“Hey!” A policeman shouted shining a torch in Peter’s direction, he ducked his head and ran faster. “Grab that kid!” 

“Kid? In a place like this?” Another one puffed out as they immediately fell onto his trail. _Damn._

“Yeah, so get him, this is no place for a child, he’ll be grateful when he realises going into the system gives him a warm bed and a hot meal at the end of the day.” 

_Hell no I won’t be, and there’s no way any of you would allow that once you realise who I am,_ Peter thought to himself as he used his Spidey abilities to push himself just a little faster than a normal human could go - hopefully these men would just assume that he had been on the track team before running away from home and school. 

“Fuck, he’s quick,” the man on his tail panted, “tell Roans to be waiting with the car outside, he’s going to get out there before I can catch him.”

“On it.”

Peter couldn't help but let out a curse, a chase from a car would mean that he would be forced to show that he wasn't a normal kid, he would _have_ to use his Spider-Man abilities to escape a police car. He would end up climbing a wall or running slightly too fast and then they would click that he was the fugitive Spider, and then the air reinforcements would be called in and he’d be fucked. 

_Panic later, run now,_ Peter told himself, _you can jump gates and other stuff a normal human could, things that a car wouldn't be able to follow through, just don't lose your head, be smart._

Be smart. 

He could do that, he’d spent far too much of his life being ridiculously stupid, so being smart seemed like an easy choice to make. 

Peter’s shoes crunched against gravel as he made it outside and then the deafening siren of the police car started, and it was on his tracks instantly. He could hear the radio confirmation that they had their sights on him, he could hear the two in the car making jokes about the chase and idly complimenting his speed. He wanted to turn around and show them that he could flip their car if he so wished, but that would just reinforce their opinion that he was an evil murderer. 

So instead he bit his pride and anger down and kept running. 

Running and running and running. 

Until even his enhanced heart was racing with the effort and his legs began to feel like lead. Eventually he had to accept that he needed to do something drastic to get away, he was going to have to reveal his identity, he was going to have to risk everything and potentially ruin his life. 

Was it really ruining it if he would end up dead? Maybe he was just sacrificing it. 

Peter ran towards a wall, listening to the jeering of the police officers as they thought they’d caught him, they didn't think there was any way for him to get out of the situation. Except they had no idea… 

Peter jumped, he let his body soar through the air as though there was nothing stopping him from being the kid he had been all those months ago when he was swinging through the air on a thin strand of web, back when his life had been good. Back when he had been mostly normal. 

“Fucking hell, it’s Spider-Man.” One of them muttered. 

“Radio this in, quick, we can’t lose him.” The other said. 

Peter moved as fast as he could, hoping that he could do the one thing that they didn't want, if he could lose them then he stood a chance, he could get away - he just needed to move move move. 

His lungs were screaming in protest and seemed fit to burst, he panted and puffed and tried his best to keep going when he wasn't even sure he could. 

It would have been so easy for him to give up, it really would have - he could ensure his family and friends’ safety, he could make sure that there was nothing that would potentially hurt them ever again. Him being gone would be the one thing that would guarantee their safety. 

So why couldn't he give them that one thing? 

Why couldn't he be the one to give up, why must he fight so hard for everything he had lost? 

Because he was Spider-Man.

Because he had seen everyone that he loved die, because he had watched everyone who was left have their lives destroyed by knowing him, because he was a stubborn ass, because he was too smart for his own good, and because he had a horrible will to keep going, to survive. 

He couldn't give up, no matter how desperately he wanted to, and no matter how much it would benefit the lives of those around him. 

So he crawled up the wall, faster than he had been previously and he stuck to the rooftops, trying to hide in the shadows of the neighbouring buildings, never climbing too high that a helicopter would easily pick him out or staying so low that there would be a chance that the police officers would see him leaping the gaps between the buildings. 

He had to be perfect. 

He had to time things better than he had ever timed them before, even though he had no idea where he was going or how he would know that he’d arrived there when he did. 

He was sure that Miss. Potts - or rather Mrs. Stark now - would offer him shelter, but she had a daughter now, Mr. Stark had a daughter and Peter couldn't bear the thought of bringing any risk to them, so he needed to keep thinking, keep planning. He needed to do something. 

He closed his eyes for a moment and let his senses take over - he let himself open up and embrace everything that he had left behind previously. He ascended to another level of understanding of his powers and sprinted. 

He climbed and twisted and jumped and lunged and soared through the air like he never had before until he found himself on the outskirts of New York City. 

He was lying on the branch of a tree, surrounded by other trees and the musty, damp smell of the forest floor. The only heartbeats other than his were distinctly not human and he listened to the almost silent sounds of the animals creeping around the forest floor. 

There was silence out in the woods, a silence that Peter hadn't experienced since he had gone on the run, it was nicer than he remembered and for once he was pleased to note that he was able to relax. 

He couldn't hear the sound of sirens anymore, he couldn't hear anything other than his own steady breathing, the sounds of the forest and his own beating heart. 

Instead, he climbed upwards and took himself further and further away from the risk of being spotted by a stray hiker. There was no chance of him being seen, but he could see everything from his new vantage point. If he looked down then he would be able to see anyone passing below him, and there was a break in the leaves above him that allowed him to see the stars - something that was so rare for him to see having spent most of his life in the city. However, he was also able to move to the side and hide himself away at a moment’s notice if a helicopter or plane passed over him. 

“This is so stupid.” He muttered to himself as he wiped a tear away, one that he hadn't given permission to fall. “I’m being so stupid.” 

He was weaker than Mr. Stark would have remembered him being - if the man were alive again would he believe that Peter was the same kid that he had left behind? Would he believe that the starving bedraggled kid that was planning to sleep in trees and spend the rest of his days as far away from humanity as possible, was Spider-Man? 

Would he want to help Peter? 

Would Peter want him to? 

Would he be able to handle the shame and embarrassment of his once mentor and father figure seeing him as he was now, and would he be able to see the look of disappointment in his eyes when he was forced to tell him that it was Peter’s fault that Beck had killed so many people? That he had been stupid enough to fall for his cheap tricks and that he had ignored his own senses and dulled them out because he’d been too busy grieving his lost mentor?

No. 

Peter couldn't face that. But he could dream of having the opportunity. 

“I miss you Mr. Stark,” Peter admitted as he stared up through the leaves overhead at the stars that twinkled promisingly at him, “I wish you were back here. I would give anything to fix things, I would give anything for you to be alive today.” 

What Peter didn't know, as he made that wish and closed his eyes, letting the tears fall shamefully, was that the Universe was always listening, and it was dangerous to make a wish and offer up _anything._

As the sun started to rise and Peter’s breathing evening out, intermingled with gentle snores, hundreds of miles away Tony Stark drooled on his pillow in his sleep; dreaming of battles, wars, death, and the kid that he had lost all those years ago. 


	2. tony wakes up

Tony woke up slowly, groaning to himself and rolling over, tugging the sheets with him so that he could stay wrapped up and cosy instead of facing the day ahead. His body felt stiff as though he had slept in the same position all night – something that often happened when Morgan climbed into their bed overnight and took over most of it. 

He’d had such a strange dream, one that could have been called a nightmare almost, but he had gotten to hug Peter again, so Tony was hesitant to call it as such. There had been blood everywhere and the sounds had been loud and violent. It had been war; they had been fighting to defend the Earth from Thanos after bringing everyone back. 

Tony shook his head into the pillow to rid those thoughts from his mind and force himself to focus on reality, there was a thick silence in the room that seemed to deafen him and pierce at his very being in an uncomfortable way - there was something abnormal happening, he could feel it. 

Normally Morgan would have burst through the door and pounced on him with a laugh before proceeding to jump up and down on him, making sure that it was impossible for him to fall asleep again. 

He would have ended up laughing along with her and saying, “Morgs, one day I swear I’ll burn that damn duck,” while trying to wrestle her favourite stuffed duck from her hands, as she giggled and screamed in faux anger at the threat to her toy that she knew he would never follow through on. 

In fact, Tony was surprised to find that the entire house was almost silent, as though no one was home. 

Pepper wouldn't have taken Morgan out without him, would she? Unless they had gone to the store, but she would usually leave a note on the bedside table for him, she knew how irrationally afraid he was of losing another kid. It wasn't that he didn't trust her with Morgan, but he didn't trust the rest of the world with the two of them. 

So, Tony threw the blankets off his body with a sigh, not even realising that he wasn't wearing his usual pyjamas and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His slippers weren't in their usual spot, which was odd, but he supposed that Morgan had been in the room after all, he had just somehow managed to sleep through her usual chaos. 

“Morgs?” He called out, tiptoeing out of the room as though he was going to be caught doing something wrong, although what that was, he was unsure about. “Pep?” 

Silence met his calls, huh, he was alone it seemed. 

He carefully made his way down the stairs and into the kitchen to make a mug of coffee. A thin layer of dust coated the coffee machine, that was odd. He hadn't remembered that being there yesterday, he would have to check with F.R.I.D.A.Y. and make sure that the air filtration system was working. 

“Mug, mug, mug, where’s my mug?” He muttered to himself as he opened a cupboard to find it, only to find it had been filled with fancy champagne flutes. What? When had they changed their home, he was sure that the mugs had been kept in there previously? 

What was going on? 

He was about to speak up and demand answers from FRIDAY when he heard the familiar pattering of footsteps coming from the deck outside the kitchen and then something else broke the uncomfortable silence and sent daggers of ice through Tony’s heart. 

“AHHHHHHHHH!” 

The scream was childlike, deafening, and definitely terrified. 

“Morgs,” Tony said in relief as he took a step towards her, “it’s alright, it’s just me.” 

“No!” She shouted, stepping back every time he made a move towards her and sending pangs of pain through him that seemed to pierce through his soul. Why was his daughter so fearful that he was in the kitchen? “Mommy!” 

“Morgan!” He heard Pepper shout, and felt relief fill him as her familiar footsteps made their way up the steps to the house and she appeared in the doorway behind their daughter. 

Except… 

Her eyes also widened in fear upon landing on Tony and in one quick, calculated movement she reached down and swooped their baby into her arms, holding her close and protecting her from her father. What had he done? What could he have possibly done to have deserved such a greeting? He didn't even remember… had he been drinking? 

No, he wouldn't do that with Morgan in the house, there was no way that it could be that. No way at all – he had gotten rid of all the alcohol in the house just a few years after the dusting, Pepper had warned him that if Morgan ever saw him drunk then she would pack their cases and move back to the Compound. The ultimatum had been exactly what he had needed, it had been the wakeup call for him to get his shit together, which he had. 

He’d joined a few support groups and binned anything remotely tempting from the house. He’d been doing well, there was no way he would have ruined it so easily.

“Pepper, please, what’s going on?” He asked desperately, stepping forward but freezing when Pepper’s face tightened at the movement. “What have I done? I don't understand.” 

“You aren't here.” She said, as though merely saying the words was enough to make that fact true. 

“What are you talking about, of course I’m here.” Tony said quickly, feeling the desperate urge to prove himself to her, he held out his arms, so the slides of his wrists were facing them in a show of weakness. “Look at me, you can both see me! Why wouldn’t I be here, there's nothing changed.” 

“Everything has changed.” Pepper said, shielding Morgan's head with a spread hand. “You can't be here.” 

“Why not?” Tony asked. “Are you leaving me? Have you filed for a divorce? You’re supposed to tell me about that before you do it you know.”

Maybe his words were slightly too sarcastic and joking, but he was beginning to feel a thrill of fear at the conviction in her eyes, she was absolutely certain that he shouldn’t be in their kitchen, he couldn’t be blamed for making a joke to try and lighten the situation. 

“No, Tony, you’re dead.” Pepper said, and Morgan broke free of her mother’s hold and turned to look at him with her painfully familiar brown eyes. They were filled with the tears of a child who was seeing her dead father. 

Tony couldn't stop a bark of laughter from leaving his mouth as he himself stumbled back a few steps, running a hand through his goatee - feeling it scratch at his hand in a way that made him sure that he couldn't be dead. He was feeling, breathing, crying? A dead person wasn’t able to do any of that, were they? 

“I-” He faltered swallowing hard, unable to tear his gaze away from his girls, they looked so scared and yet was that a flicker of hope? “I’m here.” 

“But you shouldn't be.” Pepper said, not a waver in her voice, reminding Tony of the strength inside her that had first drawn him to her all those years ago. 

“Look, Pep, please-” 

“No.” She said quickly, cutting him off. “I don't know how to deal with this, I don't know what to do.”

“You’re the greatest mind of the 21st century, you always know what to do.” Tony said. 

“No, Tony, you were the greatest mind of the 21st century, and then you died,” Pepper said, “you sacrificed your life and your family for a good reason and I shouldn't be mad at you for that but so help me, I am.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, “I really am, but I don't know what you mean.” 

“Just…” Pepper sighed and shook her head to herself. “Sit down in there-” she pointed through to the living room, “-and don't move. Not even an inch.”

“Wow, you would think you didn't trust me.” Tony muttered, the question ‘why don't you trust me?’ hidden in his words. 

“Just sit down, Tony.” 

That stung, he blinked away the sudden prickling in his eyes as the confusion and fear weighed down heavily on his shoulders, before casting another glance at his daughter. He tried his best not to focus on how tightly she was clinging to her mom, or how she was hiding herself behind her hair, like she did when she met strangers who she was unsure of. 

Was that who he had become? A stranger in his own house? 

He walked past them - noticing how Pepper twitched as he did so as though she was fighting the urge to shy away - and made his way to the living room, throwing himself down on the sofa, and making a note of how the cushions had changed. How long had he been gone for? 

Legos covered the rug in a brutal reminder of his other kid that had loved those darn sets that seemed to have a million pieces and take a hundred years to complete - Tony may have been exaggerating. He groaned and let his head fall forward to rest in his hands, everything was so confusing and strange. 

“Are you really my daddy?” A tiny voice asked. 

Tony looked up to see those familiar eyes staring into his, her face close. 

“Yeah, Morguna, it’s me.” He whispered. “Does your mom know you're here?” 

“Nuh uh.” She said shaking her head, a small smile starting to appear on her lips. “I sneaked away.” 

“Did you now?” Tony asked, raising a brow at her. “I don't think she’s gonna like that.” 

She pursed her lips as though considering that possibility, before launching herself at him so suddenly that he fumbled with his hands for a brief second before catching her, “oh well,” she said in her childish voice, not caring at all that she was going to be in trouble momentarily. 

“I missed you, Daddy.” She whispered, burying her face in his chest - could she feel how her words were breaking his heart?

“I love you three thousand, baby.” He whispered into her hair.

“You remembered!” 

“How could I ever forget?” He asked. “I beat your Mom, it's not often that ever happens, I’m going to remember that moment for the rest of my life.”

“But it's been years and years and years!” Morgan said, looking up at him with wide eyes, Tony’s smile froze on his face – that was impossible, wasn’t it? Morgan was still little.

“It’s been about six months.” A voice said from the doorway, Tony forced himself not to smile at Morgan’s tiny ‘uh oh’. “I told you to stay put, Little Miss.”

“I stayed put here.” Morgan said with a small nod to herself.

“Did you now?” Pepper asked as she moved to sit on the armchair facing them. Her gaze seemed to fix on Tony, eyes raking over him as though trying to figure him out. “It’s really you… isn't it?” 

“It’s me.” He confirmed. 

“Oh, God, Tony.” Her face crumpled and she brought a hand up to cover her mouth, as though that would have been able to stop the sobs from escaping, “I can't believe this.”

“I made myself a promise you know,” Tony said, rubbing Morgan’s back gently, “on the day we welcomed this little terror into our lives, I promised myself that you would never cry because of me again.” 

“That wasn't a promise you should have made.” Pepper said. 

“I know.” Tony admitted. “Pepper…”

“What is it?”

“I had this dream last night,” Tony admitted, “except, now I’m beginning to think that I wasn't dreaming because apparently I wasn't there last night.”

“You weren't.” Pepper said, and Tony wasn't sure which of his points she was responding to. 

“Pep, did we… did they come back?” Tony asked, did he come back? 

“Yeah, they did.” She said softly. 

“And… did he come back, am I remembering that right?” Tony asked. “I could have sworn that I held him as closely as I’m holding Morgan right now.”

“You did, Tony, Peter’s alive.” 

Tony closed his eyes and let out a shuddering breath, running his fingers through Morgan’s soft hair to ground himself. He was sitting in a world where he had his two kids, they had done it. 

“Where is he?” Tony demanded. “Is he here? No. he’d stay with his Aunt of course.” 

“Tony…” Pepper said as though she was about to tell him awful news.

“What? What is it? What’s happened to him?” 

“After you di- left, Peter went through some rough stuff and-”

“Well I’ll be damned!” A new voice interrupted. “Look at you sitting there like not a day has passed, you sorry asshole.”

“Hey, language.” Pepper warned, looking at Morgan quickly to make sure her eyes hadn't brightened with the temptation of a new forbidden word. 

“Sorry, sorry,” Tony’s oldest friend said from the doorway, holding his hands up defensively, “I was just so dang surprised. Honestly, I may have had a slight suspicion that you'd finally cracked when you called.” 

“As if she would.” Tony muttered, standing up and shifting Morgan to his hip so that he could embrace Rhodey. Morgan squeaked grumpily at the movement and buried tiny fists in his shirt as though she were afraid that he was planning to put her down. 

“You have no idea how good it is to see you.” Rhodey said, half hugging him and patting him on the back so that he didn't crush Morgan between them. 

“I’m starting to get a feeling,” Tony admitted, looking down at his daughter. 

“How is this possible?” Rhodey asked, looking between the three Starks in the room. 

“We have no idea.” Pepper said. “Hence why I’ve called in reinforcements, although I didn’t expect you to make it here this fast.”

“Just how many people have you called?” Tony asked, turning to look at her with a raised brow. 

“Um,” She faltered, how unlike her, “enough.”

“Cryptic.” Rhodey said with a grin, before turning his attention on Morgan. “What? No hug for your favourite uncle?” 

“Nuh uh.” She said, shaking her head as she tightened her grip, Tony was surprised the fabric hadn't torn under her fingers. 

“Why don't you have a seat while we wait for the others?” Tony asked. “Pepper was just away to tell me something about Peter.”

“He doesn’t know?” Rhodey asked. 

“Not yet, I haven’t had the chance to tell him, this has all just happened.” Pepper admitted. “It’s a lot for a person to take in.”

“What are you guys not telling me?” Tony asked, feeling slightly nauseous with the swirling anxiety in the pit of his stomach. He swallowed thickly, forcing himself to keep it together, he was holding his baby girl – it wasn’t the time to overreact. He needed to wait until he knew all the facts. 

“Tony…” Pepper trailed off; she didn’t want to say it. That meant that whatever had happened was bad, she had always hated being the bearer of bad news, it was one of her few weaknesses. 

“Just tell me, I’ve had enough surprises today, adding another one to the list isn’t going to break me.” Tony promised. 

“Do you want to pass Morgan?” Pepper offered. 

“I think for everyone’s sake it’s probably best if I don’t.” Tony admitted. 

“Alright…” Pepper said, and took a deep breath, she didn’t want to say what she was about to. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response to this has been incredible so far! Thank you all so much for furthering my passion for this fic! I hope you enjoy this next chapter <333


	3. Peter meets a familiar face

“Gah!” Peter tried to shoot a web out to catch himself, as he was brutally awoken by being thrown from the tree branch thanks to a particularly strong gust of wind.

He had forgotten that he no longer had web-shooters or web fluid and so hit the ground with a thud that stunned him and left him curled in on himself, gasping for breath and cursing himself for letting nature get the better of him. 

“Ow!” He shouted once he was able to suck in enough air. “Damn it!”

May wouldn't be happy with his language, but she wasn't there to hear him, no one was - that was the entire point of him being in the arse end of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees and forest creatures. Maybe it was stupid of him to scream at nothing - but it was also stupid of him to trap everything inside.

Why should he keep it within himself? Why should he hide away and pretend that he was no one?

_Because the entire world wants your head on a spike, Dumbass,_ Peter reminded himself. 

But why was he doing what they wanted and hiding himself away? Why wasn't he trying to clear his name? 

_Because they’ll shoot first and ask questions later, you know this you idiot, stop letting the hunger affect your brain - you’re smarter than this,_ and he was, but not when he hadn't eaten in days and the reminder of such was seemingly gnawing a hole in his stomach. 

Peter ran his tongue over his teeth, making sure they were all there after the fall - oh how he would’ve killed for a toothbrush, they felt coarse and uncomfortable against his tongue. 

_Get a grip, your head is all over the place Peter,_ he told himself, but knew that it was pointless, he wouldn't actually be able to focus until he ate something, but of course that would mean travelling back into the heart of the city and risking his life. It was a huge possibility that he would end up dead before he found something vaguely sustainable and returned to the comfortable little forest he had found - but without food his metabolism would soon begin to work against him. 

He was going to have to do it, there was no other choice. 

Peter hated the feeling of hunger that swirled in him, because it meant one of two things; he would have to eat leftovers from a bin or steal from a stall on the street. He had quickly learned to bite back his pride at the first one, having chosen to do that rather than steal, but sometimes the pickings were slim and he was forced to become the kind of person that Spider-Man had once worked so hard to stop. 

He was forced to become the criminal that the world already believed he was. Had he - as Spider-Man - ever stopped someone like himself, someone who really wasn't a bad person, someone who was desperate and starving? Had he gotten someone like himself arrested? Or, at the very least come between them and their chance of food? 

The thought turned his stomach and made it churn uncomfortably with acid and air, it was almost painful enough to hide the pangs of hunger. Almost, but not quite. 

Peter pulled his hoodie up around his head as he trod out of the woods, he usually alternated between his cap and hoodie to hide his face - he couldn't use the same disguise too often, people would begin to realise that he was doing so. 

The months of living on the streets had caused muck to build up on his hoodie, and the printed school logo had long since faded and peeled off against the harsh elements.

He just looked like any other homeless kid with nowhere to go – a painfully familiar sight in the city.

Eventually the buildings grew less sparse and he moved from sprawled out buildings with gated gardens to denser, more built up areas, cars filled the roads and horns blared from every angle. Peter could hear the odd siren in the distance and had to remind himself that this was New York - sirens were common, they weren't all out to get him. 

“Hey! Kid, want to buy a paper?” A man shouted, Peter glanced at him from the corner of his eye - not lifting his head to let anyone see who he was - but enough so that he could see the man with the stack of papers’ holes in his gloves, torn up hems of his trousers, multi-coloured patched up jacket. 

Peter wasn't the only one struggling. 

It would have been easy to yell back, “do I look like I have a penny to my name?” but he knew that the man was just trying, so instead he bowed his head back down and kept walking. Deeper into the city where the homeless population grew and a kid like Peter became more and more invisible. 

No one wanted to notice the homeless, it made them feel guilty, and people didn't like to be forced to feel guilty or uncomfortable about things they had deemed out with their control; so they ignored them. Which meant that they ignored Peter. 

The smell of hot dogs cooking on street carts filled his nose and rendered all his other senses useless. He could only focus on one thing, his stomach. 

“Hey, Kid!” The vendor said with a smile in his voice, Peter didn't meet his eyes. “You want one?” 

“No thanks,” Peter lied, before admitting some of the truth, “I don't have any money.”

That was something that he would never have admitted back in the beginning, but he had soon learned that there was no dignity in starvation. If telling someone that he couldn't afford to eat played on their sympathy, then occasionally a kind soul would offer him food and call it their secret. 

“Ah, tough luck Kid.” The vendor said. 

Not that one apparently.

Peter did his best not to judge, he didn't know what kind of troubles that man was going through, and besides he didn't owe him free food just because Peter was hungry. That wasn't a random vendor’s problem to fix. 

Peter forced his legs to move away from the sweet-smelling stand and swallowed the saliva in his mouth that was threatening to make him drool at the temptation of food. 

“Hot dogs! Get your hot dogs! Ma’am can I interest you?” Peter heard the vendor continue to call out his siren song as he forced his lead legs to keep going. 

Peter spotted what he was looking for after a few more minutes of walking; an empty alleyway down the side of a small restaurant, and the golden ticket - it had a dumpster in it. 

Peter could remember the days when he would have jumped in a dumpster fishing for technology that others had deemed useless - bits and pieces that he would have been able to mend his own makeshift computer with - what had happened to that? Had the police taken it? Or had May gotten to keep it? Peter hoped it was the latter but logically he knew that would have been unlikely. 

Peter pulled himself up over the side of the dumpster and landed on the black bags inside, breathing slowly through his mouth so that the appalling smell didn't put him off of his soon to be lunch. 

He didn't get far, just as he pierced his fingers through a bag and prepared himself to tear it open, a voice rang out. 

“Hey!” A man shouted. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing you dirty bastard?” 

Peter sucked in a deep breath and felt the panic swell through him, making his fingers tremble with what felt like ice water running through his veins. He vaulted over the side of the dumpster, landing harshly on tired legs that shook with the effort of the adrenaline coursing through him and the stress of feeling so damn hungry. 

“That’s it! Run! You’re worse than the rats!” The man hollered after him. “If I see you down here again, I’ll call the fucking police.” 

He really had a way with his words. 

Peter couldn't stop running, but he was too busy glancing back to make sure that the man wasn't actually calling the police to watch where he was going, meaning that he ended up doing something stupid. 

He collided with someone harshly, sending them both sprawling to the ground. 

“What the-” A painfully familiar voice started to say before breaking off when their eyes landed on Peter. “Pe-” 

“No!” He snapped, cursing himself for running into _her_ of all people. 

“Pet-” 

“Don't say my name,” he said lowly, before turning on his heel and walking away. 

“I’m not letting you walk away from me again,” she said following him and Peter could feel strangers' eyes on them as he walked as quickly as he could, tugging at the frayed drawstrings around his neck to pull his hood tighter around his face. 

“Why not?” He asked, his voice almost a whine, “it would be better for you.” 

“You haven't been answering my texts,” she said blandly, as though that were her only reason for following him.

Why her? Of all the people in New York City, why was she the one that he had to collide with? Why had the universe looked down on him that morning and decided, ‘you know what, let’s just say fuck Peter Parker today’? 

“It’s a bit hard to charge a phone when you have no charger, no electricity, and no money,” he snapped. 

“Peter,” she said quietly, tugging on his sleeve and pulling him sideways into another alley where no one would be able to see them, or hear what they were saying to one another, “talk to me, please, I haven't seen you in around eight months.” 

“You didn't need to,” he said, avoiding her eyes, he couldn't bear the thought of looking into them and seeing her pain, the betrayal of looking at her dishevelled boyfriend - or was he an ex? 

“I missed you,” she said quietly. 

“You were better off without me,” he admitted, “people want me dead.”

“I know,” she said softly, pain emanating from every word - he wondered what news articles she had been reading, what she had seen in the headlines, who she had been surrounded by. 

“If people see me with you, they’ll-”

“Peter, they’ve already torn my house apart,” MJ said quietly, “they’ve destroyed my hopes of going to a decent college, they’ve stapled me as a Spider-Man supporter. I’m scum in this new world we’re in and there’s no one except Ned and May on my side now.”

“No one?” He asked quietly. 

“I mean, there are the people who won’t say anything,” MJ admitted, “the ones who smile at us in an attempt at conveying their support for you without letting the rest of the world know that they should also be shunned.” 

“MJ, I’m so-”

“Don't apologise,” she snapped. 

“I always fight on the right side of history,” MJ said gently, “it just so happens that this fight is just beginning, and the odds seem impossible.”

“You aren’t mad at me?” Peter asked her quietly.

“I was,” she admitted, “for a long time, but Peter, I- I’ve missed you and if you tell anyone I said that, I’ll deny it to the grave.” 

“Look at me, MJ,” he said, gesturing to his dirty hoodie and overgrown hair, “who am I going to be talking to? No one pays attention to the homeless kid.” 

“You don't have to be,” MJ said, “homeless that is.” 

“I can’t stay with May, they’re looking for any opportunity to arrest her, I can’t even check up on her anymore,” Peter said, swallowing the lump in his throat - he didn't need to look more pathetic than he already was, “I’ve hurt her enough.” 

“What if I didn't mean May?” MJ asked quietly, looking away from him, as though she was afraid of seeing his reaction. 

“MJ…” he murmured. 

“No, you don't have to say it,” she said quickly, “I should have taken your silence for what it was.” 

“What’s that?” Peter asked. 

“I mean-” she broke off, before turning to stare at him with red rimmed eyes, “I know your phone broke, but you didn't attempt to speak to me, or leave a note… or anything… was this not a break up?” 

“I didn't want them to know I still care about you,” Peter said, “there are cameras on your house, they’re monitoring everyone I love to see if I’ll break and make contact, but MJ, I never wanted to break up with you, I thought you might want to end things with me though.” 

“I never wanted that,” MJ said, seemingly distracted with the mention of the cameras. 

“So we never really broke up,” Peter muttered, “huh.” 

“My boyfriend is on the run,” MJ said with a sad smile, “I never thought I’d say that.” 

“My girlfriend is under surveillance,” Peter said with a bitter, twisted smirk, “and it’s all my fault.” 

“Peter, no, this is not your fault at all,” MJ said sincerely, “this was all Beck. He was the bad guy in all of this, not you, please don't let the media get to you. You don't need that added stress, this is already bad enough.” 

“Can you see any hope in the future?” Peter asked her, not sure whether he was prepared for her answer. 

“I can,” she said, “there’s a small rebel group petitioning for a fair trial for you.” 

“There’s a what?” Peter asked, shock rocketing through him as he repeated her words in his mind. “Why haven't I heard about this?” 

“The media isn't allowed to bring any attention to them,” MJ said, “Peter, this all feels like more than anyone thought it would be. I don't get it, they’re treating you worse than a serial killer, they seem ready to place any blame on you that they can - it’s just…” 

“Just what?” Peter asked, MJ pursed her lips and shook her head, she was holding something back. “MJ, I spent the night sleeping in a tree because even rough sleeping is too risky for Spider-Man, my face is plastered on Wanted posters everywhere and there’s monetary rewards for millions of dollars for my capture; what’s on your mind? I can handle it.” 

“This seems… as though it's more than just the government tracking you down,” MJ said, “there’s something else going on here.” 

“You’re right.” Peter agreed, he had sensed it too - the worldwide hatred for him and the constant propaganda declaring how evil he was were unrelenting, there was more to it than meets the eye. “I don't know who’s calling the shots, but I know this isn't what we think.” 

“What are we going to do?” MJ asked. 

“We?” 

“Well, yeah, it’s taken me all this time to find you again, do you really think I’ll let you go so easily?” MJ asked him, her beautiful eyes staring desperately into his - as if she were daring him to disagree. 

“I can't stay with you,” Peter said, feeling his concrete resolve begin to crumble under her unwavering gaze, “it’s too dangerous, for both of us, they have-” 

“-cameras,” MJ interrupted, “I know, I’m not saying come home with me, I’m just asking you to check in more.” 

“How?” Peter asked. 

“We meet up like this,” MJ said, “in a different alley every week.” 

“It’s risky,” Peter said, but he was considering it.

“Everything is a risk right now, but we need things to live for, don't we?” 

Peter’s willpower faded into nothing, he had already hurt her so much, he couldn't do any more to her. Out of all the people for him to run into…

MJ wasn't one for fate but after everything that Peter had been through, he couldn't deny that seeing her again felt right. 

“What day is it today?” He asked quietly, feeling his cheeks burn from his ignorance.

“Thursday.” 

“Great, how about I see you again next Thursday then?” 

“That sounds good,” MJ said, and Peter turned to walk away, only to be halted by her hand on his arm, “wait, how about something to eat before you go.” 

He scanned her face, and upon seeing no traces of pity there he smiled and nodded, “I’m starved.” 


	4. Peter talks to MJ

“Slow down, I swear if you end up choking to death, I’ll kill you,” MJ threatened as Peter bit off half of the meatball sub in one go and started chewing – his mouth too full to close properly.

He watched as she made an exaggerated expression of disgust as she rolled her eyes and looked away from him, however he was quick to notice that the small smile that was playing on her lips never faded or disappeared. She was happy to see him, and if that didn’t make his heart do backflips in his chest then he wasn’t sure what would.

Maybe she had missed him as much as he had missed her. Maybe she wouldn’t think him selfish for having spent many an hour wishing for her presence, wishing for a conversation with her, wishing that he could look her in the eye and laugh with her without the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“This is really good,” Peter mumbled between bites, his eyes darting to the ground when her gaze tried to meet his, pink painting his cheeks.

Of course all of his dreams and thoughts about spending time with her were heavily dependant on him being a lot less awkward and a lot more confident.

“Peter-” MJ murmured before trailing off and glancing around the practically deserted park that they were sitting in, making sure that no one was listening to them.

“You don’t need to pity me,” Peter said quickly.

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not sad because you’re suffering.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, still avoiding her gaze.

“Why are you apologising? None of this is your fault,” she said, and it truly sounded like she believed what she was saying, “you didn’t ask for this.”

“I feel like I have a lot to apologise for right now,” Peter admitted, his thoughts jumping to MJ’s earlier words of all hopes of getting into a good college being destroyed, “and didn’t I? I was the one who kept putting on that suit even though I knew the risks it posed.”

In his mind, he had always seen her studying at a good school, in the past she had mentioned going into law and doing charity work for the lower classes and unfairly convicted. She had often talked of travelling the world and seeing all the sights, her eyes would light up at the prospect of seeing the sandy beaches of Spain or going for an authentically Italian meal in a small family owned restaurant – the kind of place where she would have to order in Italian because it wasn’t designed for tourists.

He had taken all of that away from her. Not intentionally of course, if it were his choice, he would have never spoken to Beck in the first place. He wouldn’t have let him take everything he loved and everything his closest ones loved away.

“I can understand why you think that,” MJ said, “you’ve always had a ridiculous hero complex, which actually makes sense now that I think about it.”

Peter snorted and stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking off every last trace of sauce from his sandwich, he didn’t want to waste a single drop or crumb.

“I wonder what I would have done if someone had warned me this was how it would all end?”

“I don’t think you would have given up Spider-Man,” MJ murmured, “maybe you would have been a little smarter about who you trusted and you may have punched Beck before he could even say ‘hello’, but you’re Spider-Man and Spider-Man is Peter. You never could have given him up.”

“I have now,” Peter mumbled.

“No you haven’t,” she corrected him, “I saw how your eyes lit up at the prospect of the rebel group, you want to find them and hope they’ll help you.”

“I…” he faltered, “I think I do, but what if I can’t trust them?”

“What if you can?”

“MJ, I can’t take that risk, the potential of not being able to trust them means being captured and thrown in jail, or maybe even worse,” Peter said, a tremble running up his spine at the thought of being tortured by a righteous person who believed they were acting in favour of the people.

“You can’t live like this forever,” she reminded him.

“I know,” Peter said with a sigh, he knew that more than she did – he would be lucky to make it another month with the way things were going, “but the thing is, it’s all moot. You’ve only heard rumours of them.”

“I can try to find them,” she said.

“No!” Peter’s reply was instantaneous and far too loud, he noticed someone – a dog walker – glance over towards them and quickly stood, gripped MJ’s hand and pulling her to her feet, “come on, we need to move, I’m sorry for shouting, it’s just that I can’t have you risking yourself like that. They’re already watching you; I can’t have you putting yourself in more danger.”

“This isn’t you making me do anything, or asking me to do anything,” MJ said with an indignant snort, “don’t be so absurd as to think that I would allow anyone to control my actions.”

“You’re right, of course, but MJ you need to think about your own safety,” Peter said, “there’s every chance that you can still live a good life, tell people you’ve changed your mind about me, go to college, meet someone else, have a good career and a happy life.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” MJ snapped, “I’m not going to leave when things get difficult, I’ve already told you that I fight on the right side of history.”

“So I’m just a means to being morally sound?”

“Don’t be stupid, Peter, it doesn’t suit you,” she said rolling her eyes, “stop trying to convince me to move on.” 

“Alright, fine, but please don’t chase this rebel group,” Peter pleaded, “I really don’t want you to get hurt, besides, if something happens to you then who’ll bring me food?”

“You’re lucky you’re pretty Parker,” she snorted before pulling her hand from his and checking her watch, “I have to get home, but I’ll see you this time next week at that bench, alright?”

“Alright,” Peter said, his stomach swirling nauseatingly with the sorrow of saying goodbye… again.

“And… here,” she murmured, thrusting a carrier bag into his hands.

He briefly glanced down at it, not wanting to waste his time not looking at her – how could he be sure that she would make it home safely, what if someone had seen them together and planned to harm her as she left?

With a shy look and a slightly awkward smile she ducked down and pecked his cheek, the warmth of her lips lingering long after she had. He never wanted to forget the smell of her perfume, or the feel of her hand in his. Somehow, despite the pain swirling in his heart and the burning in the corners of his eyes, this goodbye was better than his last one.

_“Peter!” MJ’s eyes were wider than he had ever seen them before, and that was saying something as he had just terrified her by taking her web slinging, “that’s… that’s not true! Surely he can’t expect people to just believe-”_

_“Look! There he is!”_

_“Oi! Spidey, what do you have to say about this?”_

_“I knew he was trouble.”_

_“No one wants to help people without getting anything in return, I knew there was something wrong with him.”_

_“I bet he’s killed more than just that poor man.”_

_“I bet that man had a family.”_

_“We should catch him and turn him in.”_

_“Peter, Peter look at me,” MJ’s voice was hushed and desperate, he couldn’t stop himself from following her wishes and his eyes met hers instantly, “you need to go, you need to get home and pack whatever you can and run.”_

_“But-”_

_“No, don’t argue with me,” MJ said lowly, “look around us, look how quickly people are turning on you, you need to go somewhere and lie low for a few days until we can get all of this straightened out.”_

_“Do you think it’ll be that easy?” Peter asked._

_“Probably, I mean at the end of the day you’ve always been here for the little guy in the city, I’m sure someone will speak up for you,” MJ said quickly, “now go, and I’ll see you in a few days, but you need to be quick.”_

_And so he was, thankfully as a bottle crashed against the wall behind the spot he had recently vacated. He could hear the heckling and jeering of the mob that had formed and part of him wished to turn back and make sure that MJ was alright, but he knew she would be mad at him for doing so – after all, she could plead ignorance of the situation, she could tell them she had no idea that she was dating a criminal._

_He stuck to the skies as he travelled home, not bothering to complicate his route or pretend to go anywhere other than home, there was no point in trying to hide who he was now, everyone already knew. This was one of the moments where he wished Mr. Stark were there for him, he would have known what to do – he would have made sure that Peter was safe until everything cleared up._

_“May?” He shouted as he climbed in through his bedroom window, grabbing his backpack and turning it upside down to empty all his schoolbooks onto the carpet._

_He grabbed blindly at clothes, shoving them into his back quickly as he progressed through the room, making sure to pack plenty of socks and underwear as he progressed through the apartment._

_“May? Are you home?” He shouted as he made it to the kitchen, opening the cupboards to steal some of the snacks in there, enough to keep him going for a couple of days until things were calmer._

_She wasn’t home, that wasn’t good, hopefully she hadn’t been ambushed by a horde of angry New Yorkers demanding answers about her nephew. He needed to get a move on and get out of there so he could find her and make sure she was alright._

_“Peter Parker, open up!” A deep voice shouted._

_Peter froze, his Spidey-Sense blaring at the back of his neck, warning him to run._

_“Parker, this is the police, open the door or we’ll open it for you!”_

_“Shit,” Peter mumbled, “shit, shit, shit.”_

_He moved as fast as he could as his hearing picked up the murmurs of agreement from the men outside his door as they settled on the decision to open the door forcefully. Apparently, he hadn’t moved as fast as he should have as he launched himself out of his window and felt the bullets begin to whizz past._

Peter rubbed at his shoulder, trying his best not to think about the pain he had been in when he’d felt one of the bullets embed itself in the muscle there. He tried not to think about the red that had stained his hands as he’d cried through extracting it in a dark alleyway.

_Move it Peter,_ he reminded himself.

Gripping the carrier bag tightly in his hand, he ducked his head and pulled his hoodie tighter around his face so no one would look too closely. MJ had apparently selected a copious amount of food for him, the kind gesture was heart-warming. Maybe in another life, Peter would have flushed a brilliant shade of red with the punch to his pride from the acknowledgement that left to his own devices he would starve.

But this wasn’t another life.

This was the hand Peter had been dealt in life, he couldn’t be to proud to accept the food from his girlfriend. Girlfriend. How could she still want to be that after everything he’d put her through? How could she look at him and not see her future swirling down the drain? How could she not blame him for everything? How could she tell him that she was willing to sacrifice everything for the sake of being on the right side of history?

And how could he continue for the next week when the loneliness had already returned full force and his mind was filled with the ghost of her smile and the way her nose wrinkled when she laughed.

“What are you looking at you piece of-”

Peter didn’t wait around to hear what he was a piece of exactly, although he had a fairly good idea, instead he made his way back down the streets he had walked down when he had met MJ.

He fought the urge to break into the cookies that he could see staring at him through the thin plastic of the bag, he needed to make the provisions last. He couldn’t expect MJ to be feeding him every week, not when she was probably struggling herself thanks to him.

“-calling it an act of God.”

“An act of… what? That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, apparently thousands could be dead, but they won’t know for sure until it’s safe enough to for them to investigate further and send in the rescue teams.”

Peter’s attention was captured by the gossiping men’s conversation, he subtly followed their gaze to the screens in a store window where the news was showing scenes like that of a disaster movie.

**FLORIDA DEVASTATION: THOUSANDS MAY BE DEAD**

Peter wanted to linger and hear more, he wanted to know what had happened, but people were beginning to gather around the screens and they were turning to talk to one another about the awful scenes that were being shown – but one thing he knew was that crowds were a vitally dangerous place for him to be.

So, with the sound of a woman murmuring ‘hey babe, just me, please call me back. I just saw the news and I’m fairly sure your hotel was near that beach, let me know you’re alright, ok? Love you.’, Peter moved away from the group, walking slowly as to not attract any attention.

A small part of him wondered whether heroes would have been welcome at that tragedy, would the people be grateful for their assistance in saving the public, or would they be outrageously angry at their presence? Not that it really mattered in the grand scheme of everything, after all, Peter hadn’t heard anything about the Avengers in a long time.

_Is that really surprising? You screwed them over as much as your family and friends,_ Peter’s brain supplied.

Superheroes weren’t welcome in this new world that had formed. They were something to be shunned now, something that was a danger to society. After the general public had learned of a teenager with the abilities of Spider-Man, they had become afraid, they had believed Beck’s words, they believed Peter had done those things.

Learning that a teenager was as dangerous as they believed Peter to be meant that they were wary of all enhanced beings – well, more than wary, they were terrified and suspicious. There were projects beginning with scientists working on developing ability suppressing drugs and chips to trace their every move. It was a situation that seemed inhumane and unfathomable to Peter, but when people were scared, they could do crazy things.

He needed to look more into the rebel group that MJ had mentioned, surely they would be fighting against everything that was happening? It wasn’t until that moment that he realised that she hadn’t promised not to look for them. Worry swirled in the pit of his stomach as he came across a garden shed covered in cobwebs – it seemed a safe enough place to spend the night – it didn’t look like the owner of it went in a lot.

He wouldn’t go too far, not again, he needed to keep an eye on his loved ones and start to plan his reaching out to the rebel group, he needed to find them before MJ, before she could destroy her life any more in his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Thank you for your patience with me, I know it's been a long time since I've posted and I'm super sorry for that! Life has been a bit hectic lately and I've been so damn busy! 
> 
> Also I got engaged! :D 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter and here's to being back to regular updates <3 love you all <3


	5. Tony learns

_ “-after a thrilling chase that has been plastered across all social media, police are calling for the citizens of New York to keep a keen eye out for the man known as Peter Parker and to be aware that he is to be considered armed and dangerous. This individual is highly unpredictable and should be brought in to answer for his actions as soon as possible,”  _ the newscaster said before rustling her papers and flashing a fake smile into the camera,  _ “and in other news, yet another tragedy has struck, calling American citizens to ask ‘when will this be over?’ a hurricane is making its way-” _

Tony switched the TV off before twisting the remote in his hands and launching it at the screen which cracked on impact. Shit, Pepper wouldn't be happy when she saw that, neither would Morgan for that matter - he could expect tantrums of an intergalactic proportion when she found out that she wouldn't be able to watch Peppa Pig that evening.

Thankfully though, before he could worry himself too much about the consequences of his temper, a distraction arrived in the form of his best friend. 

“Any luck?” Tony asked as Rhodey shed the police jacket he was wearing. 

“Nah, man, people don’t trust the police,” Rhodey said as he sat down, “it was a long shot anyway.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed, “everything we have seems to be a long shot.” 

“It’s difficult,” Rhodey agreed, “we can’t go round telling people you’re back yet.”

“Well, why not?” Tony asked, forcing himself to his feet which then decided not to stop moving. He paced back and forth in front of the smashed TV screen, one hand in his hair as he thought aloud, “I mean seriously, I can’t reveal anything because Fury doesn't want me to? Since when have I listened to what Fury wants?” 

“For once I’m with him,” Rhodey said carefully, seemingly apprehensive of repeating the same conversation that Tony had been instigating since coming back, “the world hates us, they’re scared of what we can do, they’re scared we’ll turn out like Spider-Man and use our abilities to hurt them.”

“Peter would never!” Tony snapped, “he didn't ever, I don’t care what anyone says, he wouldn't  _ do  _ that.” 

“But we don’t have any proof,” Rhodey said, “if we could just  _ find  _ him-”

“Don’t you think I’m not trying?” Tony asked. “I’ve tried my best to track him down, I have F.R.I. monitoring all the cameras in NYC, I’m constantly scanning for Karen or E.D.I.T.H. so if he activates either of them, I’ll know and I’ll be able to find him.” 

“And there’s nothing yet?” Rhodey asked, “at all?” 

“No, so he must be doing a great job at disguising himself.” 

“Or-” Rhodey started but was cut off before he could get any more words out. 

“He’s alive,” Tony said certainly, “the news was just talking about him, he was spotted and managed to escape the police that were chasing him.” 

“Maybe they were chasing the wrong person?” Rhodey suggested, his posture tensed for confrontation as he spoke, knowing that Tony wouldn't appreciate what he had to say. 

“Why would the person run then?” Tony questioned, “if it was the wrong person, wouldn't they just stop and show ID or show their face to prove that they weren't Peter?” 

“I mean people run for various reasons, just because they weren't Peter, doesn't mean they didn't have a reason not to pause,” Rhodey said with a shrug, “look, I’m not saying I know for sure, I’m just trying to prepare you for the worst.” 

“I don't need to prepare for that, I need to find the damn kid,” Tony shouted, feeling the urge to throw something again. 

It had been almost two weeks since he had returned and he was not adjusting well. He spent most of his time in the living room, watching the News and trying to trace were Peter could be, but he hadn't realised just how well the kid could hide - it was  _ almost  _ like he was dead. Tony found himself latching onto every slight hint of Peter’s existence and cursed Nick Fury because if only he could announce his return, if only he could go out there and make a public announcement, maybe he could speak out in Peter’s defence and maybe he’d come home.

But Fury didn't want that, the thought made Tony’s eyes instinctively begin to roll, of course Fury wouldn't want that. 

“Look, man,” Rhodey said gently, “I know you do, and I get it, but right now we need to get you sorted.”

“Sorted?” Tony asked. 

“You haven't shaved since you’ve come back, other than the time you take out of your day to spend with Morgan, which isn't long, you’re in here obsessing,” Rhodey said, “you need to eat something filling, drink something that isn't caffeinated, and maybe get some air.” 

“There’s air down here,” Tony said. 

“Man, move your ass!” Rhodey growled, grabbing his friend’s arm and dragging him out of the room towards the kitchen, using the element of surprise to cover a decent amount of distance before Tony started to fight back. 

“What the hell, Rhodes?” he snapped, anger lacing his words, “you can't do this, you don't understand.” 

“What because I don't have kids?” Rhodey asked, “because, yeah, maybe I don't, but I sure as shit have you and I’m not going to let you kill yourself like this when we’ve only just gotten you back. We don't know how this happened and I doubt it’ll happen again, so you’re going to eat lunch with your family and you’re going to let them enjoy your being home.” 

“This is just going to confuse Morgan,” Tony tried to protest, “she already asks questions I can't answer when I spend time with her.” 

“And ignoring her will confuse her all the more,” Rhodey said, not even bothering to entertain Tony’s attempts to make an excuse, “how do you think it would feel to have a close family member return from the dead and then suddenly start ignoring you and trying to avoid spending time with you?” 

“I didn't mean to hurt her,” Tony said quietly, no longer fighting Rhodey’s grip on his arms, “I didn't mean to hurt anyone.”

“Then prove it,” Rhodey said, “go sit down with them and have a goddamned conversation.”

Tony nodded and took a few steps forward, before noticing his oldest friend’s absence, “aren’t you coming?” 

“Why would I?” 

“You told me to sit down with my family,” Tony said, “you count in that, Honey-Bear.” 

And for the first time since he’d returned home, Tony found himself feeling as though maybe he could handle whatever he had been brought back for. He wasn't a fool, the universe didn't just bring people back from being dead, so there was going to be a price to pay eventually, but for now he could sit down with the people he loved.

“Daddy!” Morgan shouted, before launching herself off the booster seat on her chair and at him, “Uncle Rhodey said you were coming.” 

The unspoken,  _ but I didn't believe him,  _ lingered in the air between them before Tony buried his face in her hair. 

“I’m sorry I’ve been so distracted, Morgs, “ he murmured, “I promise to be better at being here.” 

“We’re both going to hold you to that,” Pepper said, from where she was standing, leaning back against the countertop, staring at Tony with a guarded expression. 

“I’d expect nothing less.” 

Tony smiled a smile that seemed to drain his energy and make his cheeks ache, as he took a seat beside his wife and looked down at the plate in front of him, “you trusted me to come?” he wondered. 

“Oh, no,” Pepper said, “but Morgan insists on setting your place every mealtime, just in case.” 

Tony’s throat tightened with those words as he was forced to swallow the large, uncomfortable pill that was the truth. He really had been hurting them, he’d forced them to spend every mealtime with a full plate and no one there to eat it. 

He wanted to say that it wasn't his fault, that he was just struggling, but the truth was that it absolutely was his fault and he’d been hurting everyone around him under the excuse of trying to find Peter, but he couldn't just stop that, he’d made a promise to himself and to the kid that he would make sure he was safe. 

_ “Rhodey, don't fuck with me,” Tony said with a growl in his voice, “we’ve been friends since college, you’ve seen me at my best and at my worst, so the least you could do right now is be straight with me.”  _

_ “Alright,” Rhodey said, “uh, why don't we go down to your Workshop?”  _

_ “My Workshop?” Tony asked in suspicion, “why?”  _

_ “Because it’s soundproof, and it's a safe place,” Rhodey answered honestly, “I would feel better telling you this news down there where no one else can hear.”  _

_ “Alright…” Tony said slowly, watching his friend carefully.  _

_ They walked down the steps to the Workshop in silence, only their shoes making a brief scuffling sound as they brushed against each stair. The room was layered with dust, well, most of it was; there was a spot, at his desk that was strangely clear, almost like someone had been going down and sitting there, not touching anything or wandering anywhere… just sitting. His heart broke as he considered that that person may have been Pepper.  _

_ Maybe she had put their daughter to bed and then brought herself downstairs where she would sit in the soundproofed room and let all of her emotions go, in the same seat that Tony himself would’ve once sat in as he tried to revolutionise the world and their lives.  _

_ “You want to know about Peter?” Rhodey asked needlessly, Tony fought the urge to snap or make a sarcastic comment.  _

_ “I do,” he said instead, some part of him knowing that this wasn't the time for messing around, he needed to know the truth.  _

_ He needed to know why everyone had been averting their eyes whenever Peter’s name was mentioned, or why Tony was the only one who seemed to remember that the kid still existed, there was something going on in the background and everyone knew it, it was just that no one seemed to be willing to tell Tony - instead they just tiptoed around him as though walking on eggshells.  _

_ Until now.  _

_ “After everyone came back, Peter moved back to live with his Aunt,” Rhodey said, “he was offered a place on the Avengers which everyone expected him to jump on, but he surprised us all by saying he would rather focus on school.” _

_ That didn't surprise Tony, “the kid would’ve been grieving, he watched me die.”  _

_ “Yes,” Rhodey agreed, his eyes glazing over for a second as he remembered something that he seemed unwilling to share, “so we left him alone, he was avoiding any calls that weren’t coming from Happy anyway.” _

_ “Happy kept tabs on him?” Tony asked desperately, hoping that at least someone was looking after his kid in his absence. _

_ “Happy was there all the time, he even started to date the kid’s Aunt,” Rhodey said with a snort.  _

_ “No way!” Tony said, a laugh breaking through his concerned demenour without his permission, “Happy dated Peter’s hot aunt? Well, I’ll be damned.” _

_ “You know he hated it when you said that,” Rhodey reminded him.  _

_ “Hated?” Tony asked, picking up on the word choice with an icy flash of terrified concern, “Rhodey, please, what’s going on with Peter? Is he alive?” _

_ “As far as we’re all aware he is,” Rhodey said, “he was trying his best to live his life as a normal teenager - he even ghosted Fury enough times to make you proud - but while he was in Europe he was found by a guy called Quentin Beck.”  _

_ “Quentin Beck,” Tony repeated slowly, as though it would help him to tease out the memories that were just slightly out of reach, “that name sounds familiar.”  _

_ “It should, he worked for you a long time ago,” Rhodey said, “On-” _

_ “Oh,” Tony said with wide eyes, “yes, I remember him. He was dangerous, he had helped develop some new cutting-edge technology but he wanted to use it for terrifying things. He would have tried to manipulate and rule the world.”  _

_ “He was mad.”  _

_ “Very,” Tony agreed, “what did he want with Peter?”  _

_ “He wanted what you left him,” Rhodey said.  _

_ “E.D.I.T.H.?” Tony muttered, “but Peter wouldn't have given him that, why would he even bother trying?”  _

_ “Because Peter was mourning, he was hurt and alone and felt as though he couldn't live up to anyone’s expectations of him,” Rhodey said, “Beck realised that, and he used it to manipulate Peter and emotionally exploit him until he felt so worthless that he just handed it over.”  _

_ “Fuck!” Tony shouted, “this is why you guys should have been there for him! He’s a  _ child _ there’s a reason he was pushing you all away. He needed you then more than ever and you all just left him to get swept up in all of Beck’s lies!”  _

_ “I know,” Rhodey said quietly, “don’t you think we haven't all realised this already? Don't you think we haven't gone through all of the guilt and shame while we wished again and again to go back in time and help him.”  _

_ “Wishes don't do shit!” Tony shouted, “don't you think if wishes could come true we’d all be living a very different life?”  _

_ “Look-” _

_ “What happened next?” Tony asked, interrupting his friend.  _

_ “Oh, uh, Peter fought Beck and he won, but Beck manipulated footage and scheduled it’s release so that it appeared that Peter was the bad guy all along.”  _

_ “Surely people weren't that stupid?” Tony muttered, but judging by the look that Rhodey cast towards him, they were, “alright, so where’s my kid now?”  _

_ “We don't know.”  _

_ “You don't… you’ve got to be kidding right?”  _

_ “Everyone was hunting him down, he was forced to go on the run and he’s been lying low,” Rhodey said, “we had hoped he would reach out to us for help but-”  _

_ “None of you were there for him while he was struggling, why should he think it would be any different after that happened?” Tony’s voice was steadily rising until he was forced to slam his fists against hte surface of the worktop. “Fuck!”  _

_ “Tony please,” Rhodey tried reaching out to grasp his shoulder in a comforting hold, but Tony wrenched it backward and shot up, grabbing a metal hammer off the ground and ignoring the dust that coated it.  _

_ He stormed over to one of his Iron Man suits, it looked creepy in its unused state, useless… well, that was fitting, wasn't it? Wasn't it completely pointless in its existence? After all, no one had been saved by it, no one had helped his kid with it, no one had helped…  _

_ With an inhuman noise of pain and grief, he raised the hammer in the air and brought it down over the suit. He felt as though someone had taken over his very being; it was like he was a wild, rabid animal, unable to stop himself from bringing the hammer down against the suit. He hit and swung and screamed until his muscles were aching and his throat felt torn to shreds.  _

_ Rhodey didn't say anything, or make any moves to stop him, somehow he seemed to realise that Tony needed this… either that or he was too anxious about being accidentally whacked with the hammer.  _

_ Eventually, Tony couldn't go on and his grip loosened on the handle until the tool fell to the ground with a clang before his knees joined it, making a more muted thud.  _

_ “W- why him?” Tony asked, not expecting an answer because he knew there wasn't one.  _

_ There would never be a good enough answer to explain the struggling and suffering of a child, one who was meant to have the world supporting him, but he’d been let down, time and time again.  _

_ It was alright though, Tony would find him and make sure he knew he was cared for and loved, that was a promise.  _

“Daddy!” 

“Huh?” Tony’s head jerked up from where he was staring into the bowl of soup, unaware that he had drifted off into a memory, was this a normal thing to happen? 

“You weren't listening!” Morgan scolded him, with a petulant pout. 

“I’m sorry, Morgs, I’m just a little distracted,” Tony apologised, “please tell me?” 

“Well,” Morgan said, raking her eyes over her father and lifting her chin in a manner that reminded Tony of his own actions in those old home videos he had stored on F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s system, “I don't know if I want to tell you now.” 

“Please?” Tony pleaded, “what if I told you I loved you four thousand?” 

“Oh,” her eyes widened, “that’s a lot… alright then, but you better promise to love me at least four thousand forever.” 

“The lady drives a hard bargain, but I promise,” Tony said with a tight laugh, apparently he was all promises these days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading my lovelies, you're all wonderful and the reason this story exists! I hope you enjoyed, and I'm excited to share the next chapter as the plot is going to thicken!! 
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://www.ephemeralstark.tumblr.com) and let me know what you thought! I also accept prompts! No st*rker though, thank you.


	6. Chapter 6

Peter kept his head down, staring at the uneven paving tiles and the cracks that radiated through them, as he weaved through the crowds without lifting his eyes from the ground. His Spidey-Sense wasn't the most reliable these days - potentially because Peter was malnourished and could barely put one foot in front of the other, or maybe it was because he had lost trust in it, after all, hadn’t it caused him a world of pain? 

Despite it being variable in its accuracy, that didn't hold him back too much as he managed to zigzag through the people without bumping into anyone. He thought that maybe the citizens of the city were disgusted by his outward appearance, or their noses could pick up on his lack of showering capabilities at present, and that was enough to make them dodge  _ him  _ rather than the other way round. 

Whatever their reasons for avoiding him, he was secretly glad as he’d promised MJ that he would lie low until their next meeting that wasn't for another five days, and lying low generally meant staying out of the city and away from anyone who could potentially recognise him. 

But five days was too long when the temperature was falling and he had woken up shivering for the third time in what he was guessing was probably about an hour, only to find yet another hole in his jumper. He struggled with regulating his temperature on a normal day, so now that it was getting colder and he wasn't able to eat enough to satiate his metabolism, it was getting dangerous. So, he’d made up his mind that he’d rather put himself through a temporarily risky situation than face the reality that he may get so cold that he wouldn't wake up.

He had a crinkled ten-dollar bill scrunched in his hand - the only money MJ had been able to scrounge for him, the money that was meant to be saved for a genuine emergency, which Peter had decided freezing to death would be; no need for emergency money if he was dead, after all. 

He made his way through the busy tourist areas, knowing perfectly well that there were some great goodwill stores not too far away, he would surely be able to pick up a new hoodie in one of them, or if he was really lucky, maybe he’d even find a winter jacket. 

Not that he would get his hopes up for that, he would be thankful for just a hoodie, that was all he needed. There was no sense in getting greedy about it or setting himself up for disappointment. 

“Oh my God!” a woman muttered to herself before motioning in the form of a cross in front of her chest, her eyes were fixed on the sleek electronic billboards that drew in so many tourists. 

Peter followed her gaze and saw something that made him do an instant double-take. 

No… 

It was impossible, there was no way… Peter rubbed his eyes aggressively, surprised that his fists came away damp from the motion, and focused his gaze on the boards once more, begging for his vision to be deceiving him. 

_ Mr. Stark smiled at him through a haze of pain, trying his best to murmur words that seemed to be causing him more agony, and as much as Peter wished he had simply said, ‘it’s alright, I understand, just stay still for us all, Mr. Stark’ he hadn't. He had been too selfish, too desperate to hear those last words from his mentor.  _

Which was how he knew that whoever that was on the screens, it wasn't Mr. Stark. Tony Stark was dead, Peter had seen it; not only in person, but he witnessed it every night when he tried to sleep and whenever he closed his eyes to blink. 

The dying man’s gaze lingered in the darkness for Peter, perhaps questioning why it was that he hadn't been able to do anything to save him. 

So there was no way he could believe the smiling, waving footage that seemed to have been taken at a press conference. No way at all. 

“Tony Stark isn't dead?” a man asked, “when the hell did that happen?” 

“No,” Peter said out loud, unintentionally speaking up, thankfully people were more interested in the glaring headline than they were about a homeless kid muttering something. 

**TONY STARK LIVES!**

“Don't you think it’s wrong for them to have kept his survival a secret all this time?” a girl whispered to her friend. 

“I don't know, judging by the report I saw earlier on the news today, it seems as though there wasn't much choice,” she replied, “apparently they weren't sure that Tony Stark would survive or what condition he would be in if he did - physically or mentally.” 

“So they just lied and said he was dead?” 

“I suppose his family wanted time to be together in privacy with him.” 

Peter staggered away from their conversation, his heart racing a mile a minute as he shoved a thought that was threatening at the edges of his mind away. He didn't want to consider it, but he needed to get to safety and then genuinely consider what was happening. 

Tony Stark was dead. 

That much he knew, but if he wasn't losing his mind and what he knew remained the truth, then that left an uncomfortable reality that he wasn't ready for. He would never be ready for it. 

So he ran. 

Peter turned and sprinted through the crowds, ignoring the shouts and protests as he moved and weaved and occasionally bumped into a person or two. 

“No,” he muttered to himself through panted breaths, “it can't be.” 

He pushed himself to move faster, stumbling as his mind tried to push his body to do things that it no longer had the abilities to do, and how could he expect it to? He had barely been eating or drinking, he’d been struggling to sleep for any length of time without jerking awake in fear, it was stupid of him to think that he’d be able to move like he had before he’d been exposed. 

“No, no, no,” he muttered, voice rising slightly as he made his way further out of the city centre and back towards the suburbs, “not him, anyone but him, not again.” 

Garden fences, bushes, cars, and the pavement flew past in a blur as he pushed his trembling limbs faster, he was about at the point of collapse, and yet he couldn’t rest, not yet. 

_ “Mr. Stark, come on,” Peter whimpered, reaching out so that his hand was hovering inches from his mentor’s face, “you did it, come on.”  _

_ “Come on, Kid, come on, I’ve got you,” Peter heard Mr. Stark’s best friend murmur as Miss. Pott’s gently handed him over so she could say goodbye to her husband.  _

_ Peter watched in guilt as tears fell from her face, this was all his fault, he should have been the one who snapped, it shouldn’t have been the man with a young daughter and a happy life ahead of him.  _

_ It had been selfish of him to let Mr. Stark take the brunt of the force that the snap caused, after all, despite Mr. Stark being Iron Man and a generally spectacular human, he was still just that… human. Peter was genetically modified, he had enhanced abilities, of all the people to snap - it should never have been Mr. Stark. Maybe if Peter had done it-  _

“NO!” 

Peter screamed the word so loud that birds fled from the treetops overhead. He couldn't do this, how could he go through all of this again? He’d barely survived the first time around. 

“B-” he broke off, unable to say the name that haunted him, when he spoke again his voice was hoarse as though he had spent the last five hours yelling, “you can't do this to me again. Do you hear me? I can't take this, I just can't. It’s too much, alright? You win, you won last time, you win this time, just leave me alone - I don't have anything left to give.” 

The tears fell down his face in a hot, constant stream, they didn't warn him of their arrival or ask permission to be there, they just kept coming and kept falling uncontrollably as he felt the last shreds of fight in him shatter into a million pieces. 

He couldn't do this again. 

“I don’t know what’s real anymore,” he whispered, knowing that Beck would hear him, “I’ve lost everything, you took my friends, my family, my home, do you hear? I don't have anything left! I don't have anyone… why would you do this to me? Why would you…” 

When had he fallen? He was on his knees on the forest floor, beside the tree that was now his home, sobs wracking through him and making him feel like he was going to convulse out of his body, is that what Beck intended? Or was he actually sitting on a rail line again? Was a train going to appear out of nowhere and hit him? Would it kill him this time?

With that thought in his mind and panic running through his veins, he pushed himself backward, skittering away from the potential train like a crab, his cheeks still damp and his face still flushed with emotion. 

Was he even in the woods? 

What if he was actually in a jail cell somewhere and Beck was creating all of this in his mind to make him feel at ease only to snap it away when he was at his lowest? 

“Come on, then,” he muttered, “I’ve hit rock bottom, you can take it all away, but the joke’s on you! I don't have anything to lose now.” 

_ “Mr. Stark, can I ask you something?” Peter asked quietly, breaking the silence of them working together.  _

_ “You just did,” Mr. Stark said, looking rather giddy at the fact he was able to use an actual dad joke, “but I’m feeling generous today, so you can ask another.”  _

_ “It’s just something Mr. Rhodes said yesterday when he passed through, I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I was wondering what he meant,” Peter admitted.  _

_ “Remind me what he said?”  _

_ “He said, ‘well, it’s your worst coding so you know what that means?’,” Peter said.  _

_ “Ah,” Mr. Stark said, placing his screwdriver on the desk and turning to properly face Peter, “well, Rhodey has been with me through a lot, he’s my oldest friend and my most trusted person, so naturally he’s seen me at my worst. Something he’s always said to me when I’ve hit rock bottom is, ‘you know what this means? The only way to go from here is up’, and it’s stuck with us.”  _

_ “So even though we messed up the program yesterday, it’s not all terrible?” Peter asked.  _

_ “No matter how bad things seem, if you’re truly at your lowest low, then the only way to go is up, so all is not lost.”  _

And it was true, Peter could only go upwards from here - that was unless he ended up being hit by another train, or even living through another one of Beck’s torturous scenarios. Peter scampered up the tree that had become his home, briefly wondering whether he was even climbing a tree, maybe Beck had him balanced on the edge on a building, he could only go upwards. 

Peter closed his eyes and breathed out slowly through his nose, wondering which breath would become his last. 

-

Meanwhile Tony was sitting, left ankle on his right knee, arms crossed over his chest as he kept his mouth tightly shut and watched as his beautiful wife paced angrily back and forth in front of him. She was furious, in fact, Tony wouldn't have been surprised if steam started to escape from her ears. 

“-foolish, we have a daughter! You need to consider her wellbeing through all of this,” she shouted, without pausing her pacing, “how could you just go out there and expose your return like this? Didn't you think about the questions? The suspicions? People are going to be asking why  _ you _ came back, why didn't their family member who died unexpectedly?”

“I didn't say I came back,” Tony muttered, “didn't you watch the broadcast? I said I’d been alive all this time, in critical condition and fighting for every breath.” 

“No, Tony, I didn't watch it, I was too busy dealing with Nick Fury calling, and trying to avoid the millions of news reporters’ calls. I even avoided our family and friends’ calls.” 

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, “I was desperate, we’re getting nowhere with our search for Peter, we need him to come to us.”

“Please, tell me you didn't mention him,” Pepper pleaded. 

“Of course I did,” Tony muttered, “why wouldn't I?” 

“Oh, get a grip, Tony!” she shouted, “don’t you realise that this isn't the same world you left? Things are different now, we can’t be as open as we used to be!” 

“You call that open?” Tony wondered idly. 

Thankfully, he was saved from her rage-filled gaze as the door slammed open, hitting against the wall so aggressively that a hole formed in the plaster there. 

“Pack whatever you can in ten minutes and get in my car,” Rhodey said as he stormed through their living room and scooped all of their family pictures off the shelves, “don’t leave anything personal lying around, and absolutely  _ nothing _ that you wouldn't want the media to get ahold of.” 

“Rhodey, what are-” 

“Shut up and move,” Rhodey snapped, “jeez, Tones, I knew you were an idiot but this is next level.” 

“What did I do?” Tony asked. 

“We don't have time to explain it,” Rhodey said, “Happy is getting Morgan from daycare, they’re going to meet us at the safehouse.” 

“Safehouse?” Tony asked, “no, we can’t leave. I told Peter we’d be waiting for him, I told him to call me or Happy.” 

“Have you even spoken to Happy?” Rhodey asked. 

“Of course I have,” Tony muttered. 

“Do you truly realise the extent of what Peter went through?” 

“Yes,” Tony snapped, “I mean, probably, or at least, I think I do.”

“The kid barely believed Happy was real, he’s going to see that broadcast and think this is all fake,” Rhodey said, speaking slowly, as though trying to explain complex physics equations to a cat, “he’s going to think Quentin Beck is still alive and out to get him again, he’ll probably go further into hiding.”

“No,” Tony muttered, but it was more of a wishful plead than anything else. 

“Not that it matters now,” Rhodey said, “I need you to get a move on.” 

Tony looked for Pepper to see whether she was listening to his best friend’s insane rambling, but she was already packing, or rather, she was doing a rushed version of it and seemed to be just grabbing things at random and shoving them into whatever seemed big enough to hold a fair amount of stuff. 

“This is unreal,” he muttered to himself. 

They couldn't possibly run away from their home - which was in a secret location - just because people knew he was still alive. With an irritated grumble, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and started to scroll through the various news headlines, looking for something to prove to his wife and best friend that they were overreacting. 

**_OUTRAGE AS TONY STARK ANNOUNCES SUPPORT FOR SPIDER-MAN_ **

**_TONY STARK, TRAITOR, ALIVE AND WELL_ **

**_TONY STARK SIDES WITH SPIDER-MAN_ **

**_STARK INDUSTRIES SET FOR STOCK MARKET TRAGEDY_ **

**_THE STARK TRUTH: SPIDER-MAN MAY BE HIDING OUT WITH IRON MAN_ **

**_BETRAYAL AS SAVIOUR SIDES WITH A MURDERER_ **

**_WHEN WILL THE HEROES BE HELD ACCOUNTABLE?_ **

**_CALL FOR BOYCOTT OF STARK INDUSTRIES_ **

**_RIOTS BREAK OUT OUTSIDE STARK INDUSTRIES HQ_ **

Alright, so he had misjudged things a little, and a few people seemed pretty mad about it, which was fair - he hadn't exactly done a great job at explaining things.

“Alright, listen,” Tony said, catching Pepper and Rhodey’s attention, “I know this seems bad, but I think the problem is that I just sided with Peter without explaining his innocence. All I need to do is try and explain to everyone that he didn't even do anything wrong and give evidence that Beck was a bad person.”

“Tony stop,” Rhodey said, “you need to focus on something that matters right  _ now _ , which is getting yourself and your family to safety.” 

“They surely wouldn't hurt us thought,” Tony said, “they may be mad and my business may take a hit, but they can’t just assault us in our own home.” 

“People are dangerous,” Pepper said, “that’s why our daughter is in an expensive private school, that’s why we live in the middle of nowhere, it's why you designed your own security system. We were hiding before the world was against you, we need to do it better now.” 

“But-” 

“But nothing,” Pepper snapped, “do this for us, please, just… at least think of your daughter.” 

Tony sighed, he owed her this much, he owed them both. He had spent all his time since coming back trying to continue the life he’d lived before dying, but things were different - Pepper was different, Morgan was different, the world was different,  _ he  _ was different. 

There was no way for him to keep ignoring that. 

So, he did the only thing he could in that situation, he started to pack. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Thank you for all the wonderful comments so far, I hope you enjoy this new chapter!! You can find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](ephemeralstark.tumblr.com)
> 
> :D


	7. Chapter 7

Peter paused for a moment, bending over with his hands on his knees and hair falling forwards into his eyes and obscuring his vision; or it probably would have done so, if the tears that were swimming in his eyes and causing the world to blur before him weren’t already doing such a great job.

He was so close, and yet, the rhythmic thudding and whirring of a helicopter somewhere above reminded him that no matter how short the distance between him and Mr. Stark’s cabin, there were still so many barriers that prevented him from reaching that safety. 

He knew there were search parties out for him, there had been since the day Beck had screwed him over so tragically - except now, most of the hype was gone and the only people looking for him were the experienced bounty hunters and the people who felt they had something to prove. The dangerous people. 

“Come on, Peter, you’re so close, you can do this,” he whispered to himself before straightening up, his vision swimming and darkening around the edges as he did so, but he still pushed on, he didn't have time to pass out. 

The grounds around the Stark home were littered with surveillance cameras - Peter could hear the whining whir of the electric static in the air from them - and he was sure that the helicopters weren't just filled with newscasters and their camera crews, surely some of those aircrafts were filled with people who were inching to slap a pair of cuffs on him and throw him into a cell to rot, so which one was above him just now?

Did Mr. Stark know about the traps that were surrounding his home? 

Did he sign off on them? 

Maybe… Peter dreaded to think about it, but there was always a chance that he was the one who had requested they be placed there - maybe he believed everything in the news and thought that Peter was capable of the terrible things that so many people said he had done. 

What if it was all a trap? 

“No,” he whispered, hoping that the sound of his own voice would be enough to fight the thoughts in his mind, “no, Mr. Stark wouldn't do that, he just  _ wouldn't.”  _

With that determination in his mind, he powered on, weaving through the trees in a convoluted manner so that he could stay away from the hum of the cameras and avoiding the thin, silver tripwires that glinted menacingly in the light that filtered through the trees. 

Until, finally, he was standing at the edge of what looked to be Mr. Stark’s garden, only just obscured by the woodland there - it had been a while since the funeral and Peter hadn't been paying full attention to the layout of the place back then, but judging by the small playhouse and all the toys that were lying around, it was safe to assume that he was looking onto Mr. Stark’s back garden. All he had to do was run, if he sprinted, then surely he could make it.

If he could just get inside… that was all he needed to do, he’d spent the last two weeks desperately trying to make it to this point. 

**Two Weeks Earlier…**

“Peter?” Peter woke with an almost silent gasp and quickly hid away from the voice that sounded familiar in a way, but dangerous - as no one was meant to know where he was sleeping. “Peter, it’s just me, it’s MJ.” 

That’s right, he had told  _ her _ , and that had been so stupid of him. 

“I’m worried about you, you were meant to meet me three days ago and I know you and your metabolism,” she said, her boots crunching as she inched closer, “there’s no way you could have any food left now.” 

“Stay away!” Peter shouted, or rather, tried to shout. 

His voice was hoarse from the lack of use over the last few days, and the constant tightness he felt in it when he thought about the reality that Beck was watching him fall apart. 

“Oh, Peter…” he could hear the pity in her voice, the pity that Beck had put there because he knew it wasn't her. 

How could he have been stupid enough to think that he could disappear, ruin his friends’ and family’s lives, create more misery for them than they ever could have thought up, and be forgiven? They wouldn't love him still, they would hate him. MJ should hate him, she shouldn't want to still date him, she shouldn't be willing to sacrifice her future 

“Peter, I know you’re on the other side of this tree,” she said gently, and there was a strange crunching noise that confused him until his brain caught up and told him that she had slid down the trunk and was sitting against the tree, “I take it you saw the news?” 

“You can’t trick me,” Peter said, ever so slowly beginning to back away, “not again.”

“You think this is all a trick,” it wasn't a question, she knew exactly how his mind was working and that didn't surprise him at all, as she was a figment of his imagination - or rather, she was a projection of Beck’s imagination and technology. 

“I know it is,” he corrected her, wondering whether he would be able to make a run for it without Beck realising - probably not, everything was a figment created by the guy to trip Peter up and tear the remaining pieces of his mental health to shreds. 

“No, it’s not,” she said, sounding desperate, her voice had more emotion than Peter had ever heard in any of Beck’s simulations and it made him pause for a moment, “look, I can answer anything, I can tell you something only I would know, I promise.”

“You promise?” 

“I do,” she said, “just please, come and talk to me, you can keep your distance if you’d like.”

Peter took a deep breath in through his nose and readied himself before stepping out to see MJ standing there, she looked completely normal, her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail with a few wispy bits escaping, a testament to her long journey to find him. 

“Oh, Peter,” she said quietly, staring at him with sad eyes, “you look awful.”

“Tell me something no one else could know,” Peter demanded, ignoring her comment, he knew exactly how terrible he looked. 

His eyes were red rimmed and bloodshot with dark bags under them, he had dropped too much weight thanks to being on the run and his enhanced metabolism wasn’t equipped to handle functioning on such a scarce intake. His hair was greasy and matted in places, his clothes were threadbare and holey, and there was an air of despair surrounding him. 

“Remember when we told May we were dating?” she asked, not moving an inch from where she was, “and she grinned so wide and told us that it was finally time we got our heads out our backsides, and then she baked that celebration cake?” 

“Can we really call that a cake?” Peter asked hoarsely, the hope that was swelling in him was dangerous and had the potential to save his life or destroy it. 

“Well, it was rather frisbee shaped,” MJ said, “but we didn't care, we waited until it was the early hours of the morning and you cut us some cake and helped me onto the roof. We watched the stars and talked about everything and nothing until the sun started to come up.”

“And May found us missing and started to freak out,” Peter said with a small smile at the memory.

“She accused me of being Spider-Girl and thought we were out being a crime fighting duo.”

“Yeah and then you walked into the fridge and spilled milk everywhere, and she quickly realised you weren't Spider-Girl,” Peter snorted.

“Can I hug you now?” MJ asked gently. 

Peter paused for a moment before letting his shoulders slump in defeat as he realised that he was safe, “please.” 

She didn't need any more permission, she covered the remaining space between them in two long strides and pulled Peter in close as though she were terrified she was never going to see him again. A small, dangerous spark of hope started to build in him. 

“It’s going to be alright,” she promised, and maybe it was the fact that he had really needed to hear those words, or maybe it was the absolute conviction in her voice, but Peter felt tears building as he buried his face in her hair and breathed in the soothing scent of shea. 

“You can't know that,” he whispered, his voice thick. 

“I know that you’re going to go to Tony Stark,” MJ said, “and I know that he cares about you and he’ll keep you safe.”

“It feels like you’re saying goodbye,” Peter admitted. 

“No, not goodbye,” she said, holding him even tighter, “just ‘I’ll see you in a while’ alright? You can't get rid of me that easily.”

“You aren’t coming,” he realised.

“I can’t,” she said softly, “I have to be here for my mom and dad, they’re struggling at the moment.”

Because of him. 

Because MJ was dating Peter Parker and the world hated Peter Parker which meant they also hated anyone who was associated with him. It was foolish of him to think that MJ’s parents would have managed to escape that unscathed. Guilt pooled in his stomach, knotting it. 

“But, that can’t stop you,” she continued, obviously sensing his inner turmoil, “Stark is the best option for you, we need you to be safe, that’s the priority right now.”

“He’s really alive?” Peter asked, doubt still playing at the forefront of his mind. 

“Everything points that way,” MJ said. 

“I- but how?” 

“Your guess is probably as good as mine,” she said, “but when you see him, ask him. In the meantime I’ll keep trying to find the rebel group, we need as much help as we can get.”

They stood there in silence for a few minutes, Peter listened to the steady beating of her heart and tried his best to commit it to memory. They were both so young and yet they had survived more than most couples ever would have to, so he was sure that they would survive this too. He was just so damn lucky that MJ was such a formidable young woman. 

“I’ve brought you enough food to last about nine days or so.”

“MJ… this is too much,” Peter said. 

“You can take me out to lunch when Stark clears your name and we’ll call it even.” 

He couldn't help the snort that escaped him at that, he would gladly do that, if he was ever able, “you have yourself a deal.”

And then she gently ducked her head down and her face hovered close to his, pausing to ask for his permission. 

“I haven't brushed my teeth in a while,” he warned her. 

She laughed and pressed her lips to his briefly, pulling away too soon, he wanted to follow her but he knew he couldn't. 

“In that case then, we’ll continue this when we next meet,” she said, “consider it something to keep you going.” 

“Uh huh,” Peter murmured, feeling dazed as butterflies swooped in his stomach. 

“I should go,” MJ said reluctantly, “and you should probably start heading to Stark’s.”

“Oh man,” Peter mumbled, shaking his head to himself, “I’m going to have to walk all the way there aren't I?” 

“I wouldn't recommend public transport,” MJ said, confirming his thoughts, “but… Peter, be careful alright? Some weird things are happening at the moment; storms, floods, hurricanes, earthquakes. It’s terrifying, meteorologists are struggling to predict them, they seem to just come from nowhere.”

“I’ve seen news clipping on some of my trips into the city,” Peter said, “I didn't realise it was getting so bad.”

“It’s almost like the end of the world,” MJ said, “so just… be careful, alright?” 

“I promise,” Peter said.

In the back of his mind though, he was thinking to himself that it wouldn't happen to him, these freak accidents wouldn't affect him surely. 

He shouldn't have been so convinced. 

It was a week into his journey when the rain started, and with it came a howling gale that actually knocked Peter off his feet and flat onto his back. 

“What the-” 

Mud squelched beneath his back and a small part of his brain registered how lucky he was that it was so wet, otherwise that fall would have probably hurt a lot more than it already had.

His head was spinning with the sudden change in position and he was surprised that a breeze had actually managed to knock  _ him  _ off his feet. Had he really lost so much weight from his time scrounging on the streets that a breeze could knock him over? Or was that something more than just a simple gush of the wind? 

Was it related to the strange weather that MJ had warned him of? Was it a freak accident? Although that seemed to be what the news reporters were labeling all of the insane stuff that was going on, at what point did they cease to be ‘accidents’ and begin to be expected. 

It should have been impossible for wind to knock him flat on his back in a way that winded him so drastically, it should have, and yet… 

The gales continued to blow and trees creaked around Peter threateningly, he could hear the damage forming beneath the gnarled outer shells. 

“Gotta move,” he muttered to himself, as though speaking it aloud would make it easier for him to do, it didn't. 

Peter struggled to sit up against the force that was trying to push him back into the mud that saturated his clothes and tried to suck him in. it was terrifying, a small part of his mind started to wander and nightmarish visions of drowning in mud or being suffocated by the sheer force of the wind, it was awful. The fear that it drove was enough to push him into action. 

He struggled against the gales that tried to push him back, and the suction power of the soaked mud, so that he was finally back on his feet, fighting against an invisible force to push himself on in his journey. It was already taking him longer than he’d thought, the exhaustion that was settling in his bones slowed him drastically and now this insane weather that had hit was only going to prolong his journey. 

Yet, he continued to power on, using the trees around him as a shield from the wind that threatened to send him flat on his back once more. He tried to ignore the pain that was echoing through his ribs from his fall and the constant, almost overwhelming dizziness that made the world around him spin, but he still put one foot in front of the other so that at least he was moving forward when everything in him said that it would be better to give up. 

**Present Day…**

Which is how Peter found himself lurking there, listening to the helicopter and trying to peer through the windows to see if Mr. Stark was in that house. It seemed as though he wasn't the first to try and peer through however as all of the blinds and curtains had been drawn to block out unwanted gazes. 

Just as the unpleasant reminder that he couldn't hover on the sidelines forever crept into his mind, the sounds of the helicopter began to fade - it must have been news reporters, no one who was hunting for Peter would give up so easily. With that thought in his mind and the urge to find safety, he started to sprint forward. 

He summoned the last dregs of energy and pushed himself further and faster than he had during the past few weeks, the movements exacerbated his injuries and made his entire body feel like a giant bruise but he still kept running. His Spidey-Sense was  _ screaming  _ but Peter couldn't tell whether it was because he had put himself in a very dangerous situation or because there was a gun aimed at him and preparing to shoot. Maybe this run would be his last. 

Maybe he would get so close to safety and lose everything at the last minute because he didn't know if there was a sniper hiding somewhere. His Spidey-Sense was clear that he was at risk but there was no warning what exactly the risk was. 

His entire focus was fixated on the green door ahead, if he could just make it there, maybe he would stand a chance. 

Except… of course… he was too focused on making it there that rather than stopping and politely knocking Peter collided with the door, letting out an almighty crash as he rebounded off it and fell onto his back, further aggravating the injuries that had already formed on his journey to the elegant farmhouse. 

“Ugh,” he groaned as he slowly sat up, trying to think past the spinning, dizzying haze that was slowing him down and threatening his safety, “no time to pass out.” 

He slowly tried to stand, only to be forced to freeze on his knees as his vision threatened to fade away completely, was he hallucinating? He almost thought there was someone speaking. Maybe there was, maybe this was the end for him.

Peter slumped back onto the ground, trying to cling onto the last tendrils of consciousness. 

“Morgs, what did I tell you about opening the door?” a panicked sounding man asked, that voice… it was safety. 

“But, Daddy, look!” A smaller voice said, with a familiar petulance and confidence that made Peter fight a smile, “there’s a broken boy on the deck.”

He didn't hear anything else, he was forced to succumb to unconsciousness as his body was pushed past its limits and a small part of him recognised that it was safe enough to rest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i struggled a lot with this chapter ngl, but here we are, i hope it was good enough!! soon we get to find out what's really happening and the rebel group is going to make an appearance!! 
> 
> come find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/)
> 
> thank you for all the comments, kudos, subscriptions and support up til here and going forward <3


	8. Chapter 8

Peter woke with a sharp inhale as his mind caught up with reality and he began to wonder if those last few minutes before passing out were real or a figment of his imagination - maybe his situation had been so dire that he had formed something soothing in his mind as a coping mechanism. 

But why would he imagine a child? He surely would have imagined Mr. Stark or May, someone who would be reassuring and comforting to him in the moments before potential death or incarceration. 

“Kid?” 

Except that voice was not a warped coping mechanism that his mind had wrangled up in a last-ditch attempt to soothe him before he lost it, no, that voice was real and filled with so much love and grief that Peter immediately wanted to ask the person what was wrong. He wanted to look and see who it was, but a small part of him was scared that it wouldn't be who he so desperately wanted it to be. 

His eyes opened to dim lighting, he blinked a few times in rapid succession as he forced his eyes to adjust, and then he turned his head to the side to see Mr. Stark sitting there, hunched over at Peter’s bedside with his elbows on his knees and chin resting on his knuckles. 

“Hey, sleepy,” the gentle voice that came from Mr. Stark didn't match the tension in his eyes, “how are you feeling?” 

“I-” Peter broke off, growing distracted from the question that had been asked as he stared at his mentor in wonder, “it’s really you.” 

A million different, unidentifiable emotions coursed through Peter in a dizzying rush as he stared at the man whose death he had been mourning all this time, the man whose funeral he cried through and whose widow he had hugged and apologised to. 

“It’s me,” he confirmed, “God, Peter, I’m… I don't even know what to say, the things you’ve been put through…”

“It’s not your fault,” Peter said, knowing the older man well enough to tell that he would revert to his self-destructive thoughts.

_ You’re really here…  _

“I just… fuck, Kid, I should have been here for you,” Mr. Stark said, “I should have been able to protect you from all of this, but I couldn't.” 

“It’s not your fault you were de-  _ gone, _ ” Peter mumbled, he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take Mr. Stark’s hand so that he could know that he could confirm once and for all what his eyes were seeing. 

His arm twitched slightly, making him aware of something strange happening with his left arm, it was a bizarre feeling that made him move to scratch the skin by the crook of his arm, only to be met with plastic. 

“Careful there, Bud,” Mr. Stark said, reaching out and gently pulling his right hand away from the offending object, his hand was warm and calloused from years of hard work - he was  _ real _ , “that’s just a cannula, we needed to give you some fluids earlier and we left it in just in case you needed anything more.” 

“A cannula?” Peter asked, staring down at the object in confusion, before comprehension and horror began to dawn on him, “am I in a hospital?” 

He instantly moved to get up, shoving back the blankets across his legs with vigor as he tried to put together the pieces of the room to try and work out which hospital he was in so he could plan his escape. Except, he was so panicked that the pieces of the room were blurred and confusing, he couldn't seem to process anything.

He was about eighty percent sure that Mr. Stark had only been trying to help, but how could he have misjudged this situation so terribly? 

“Peter, please, calm down,” Mr. Stark said, sounding desperate but also so far away. 

“I can't be in here,” Peter said shrilly, pulling against Mr. Stark’s grip on his forearms that were trying to keep him grounded, it was probably a good thing for the older man that Peter’s strength was lacking, “you don’t get it!” 

“Kiddo, come on, listen to me alright? It’s me, have I ever done anything that would put you in danger?” Mr. Stark asked him. 

Peter’s struggles weakened against his will, whether at the words that had come from Mr. Stark or the exhaustion that was running through his bones, he wasn't sure. It made him pause for a second to consider the question because the truth was that Mr. Stark would never have willingly put him at risk, even when Peter had gone to fight the rogue Avengers in Germany, it hadn't initially been to fight, it had been to talk. 

Mr. Stark jumped on the opening he had unwittingly given. 

“Look around, Peter,” he suggested, “really look around and take in where you are.” 

He was on a bed, but it wasn't a hospital bed, he probably should have known as much as the mattress was soft and subtly springy, the duvet was thick and covered with what Peter was almost sure was a silk duvet set. That wasn't evening mentioning the pillows beneath his head. 

Peter couldn't remember the last time he had been so comfortable, he pulled the covers back over himself and marveled at their softness and the instant warmth that seemed to surround him, he was unable to stop himself from trailing his fingers back and forth gently.

He also couldn't remember the last time he had slept on a bed, so maybe a regular hospital one wouldn't have felt so bad either. 

“I’m in a bed,” Peter said. 

“Look further,” Mr. Stark prompted. 

He did and he saw… Dum-E… and U. Both slightly dented and scraped from their years of existence and being rebuilt a few times after tragic accidents, but it was undeniably them. And there was a workbench in the middle of the room with papers scattered over it, as though someone had been working there recently. 

Further benches, computers, screens, half-built robots.

Maybe he could… “F.R.I.D.A.Y.?” he tried. 

_ “Hello Peter, it’s good to see you again,”  _ she said in her familiar lilting voice. 

He let out a small, breathy laugh of relief and fell back against the comfortable pillows. It was so nice to know she was watching over them, keeping them safe. 

“We’re in your workshop,” Peter mumbled, “why are we here?”

“We were going to put you in your room, but figured you’d want to wake up somewhere you could identify,” Mr. Stark explained, “plus there are no windows, so we eradicated the risk of someone spotting accidentally before Pepper could double-check Morgan hadn't opened any of the blinds trying to peek out.” 

“All of your workshops look very similar, I’ve never been in this one but I can instantly recognise what it is,” Peter said in confirmation, before another detail clicked in his mind, “wait… my room?” 

Mr. Stark laughed and rubbed at the back of his neck, a clear sign that he was embarrassed - he really hadn't changed at all, had he? Not since having a daughter, not in the time Peter had been gone, not even after his own death. 

“I kinda prepared for you coming back,” he admitted, “years ago, and it’s been waiting for you ever since.” 

Peter couldn't help but grin at that. 

“But you can see that later,” Mr. Stark said, “first-” 

“You want to ask me questions,” Peter interrupted, resigned. 

“More than anything in the world, yes, but I was actually going to say, first we need to get you something to eat,” Mr. Stark corrected him. 

“Eat?” 

“Yeah, you know that thing you do with food?” Mr. Stark said, “something it looks like you haven't been doing well lately.”

Peter looked down and fiddled with the blankets, why did he feel ashamed? It wasn't his fault that he’d been struggling so badly, if anything it was Beck’s, but Beck was long gone - he hoped - and there was no one left to take the blame except for himself. 

“Come on then,” Mr. Stark said as he stood up, his knees cracking in protest at the sudden movement, “let’s go get some nosh in you.” 

“No one says nosh any more, Mr. Stark,” Peter mumbled, but he did as he was expected and shoved the blankets off his legs, his body seemed to drop a few degrees almost instantly and he wished that he could just wrap it around him and take it with him. 

“Well the cool people do,” Mr. Stark corrected him, “and Pete, I think you can call me Tony now.”

“Are you sure we’re there?” Peter asked, trying to joke, trying to make a smile appear on Mr. Stark’s face so that he didn't look so haggard and guilty about the position Peter was in. 

“Oh, you little brat,” Mr. Stark - no, Tony - muttered before pulling him forward and holding him tightly. 

It was the first time in a long time that Peter had been called a brat without any malicious intent, it was also the first time anyone but MJ had touched him with any degree of kindness since he had become public enemy number one. 

“I didn't think I’d make it here, Tony,” Peter admitted, “I almost gave up.”

He heard Tony sniff before burying his nose in his hair and squeezing him even tighter, “I’m really glad you didn’t, Underoos, you belong in this family.” 

With that, Tony pulled away and flashed Peter a watery smile that couldn't quite make it all the way to his eyes. 

“Food?” Peter prompted, trying his best to move things along so he didn't have to think about how he was the reason for that look on Tony’s face, it was all his fault.

“Food,” Tony confirmed, “now, you’ll be glad to know that Morgan is absolutely desperate to commandeer all your time, she has about a million stories to tell you and just as many questions about Spider-Man - don’t give me that look, you were gone for five years, of course I told her stories - but we figured that you might need a little time to adjust and regain your strength so Happy is baby-sitting in the barn for a little while.” 

“Happy is here?” Peter asked.

“Everyone is,” Tony said, “we were initially going to a safe-house, but just as we were getting in the car  _ someone  _ threw a hissy fit.”

“Morgan?”

“What? No, me. Keep up Petey,” Tony said, “I realised that it was a waste of time to tell the world I was alive if I was just going to go into hiding, after all, the only reason I outed myself as undead was so that you would hopefully see and make your way to me, I tried and failed to find you out there.” 

“I hid myself well,” Peter said, “I knew that if the good guys could find me, then the bad guys could too.” 

“You’re a smart kid.” Tony helped him to stand up, steadying him when his legs shook and stars danced in his vision. “It’s alright, you’re fine, we just need to take our time and it’ll be alright.” 

“Mr. Stark, they’re going to find me here,” Peter whispered and he padded along barefoot beside his mentor.

“Back to ‘Mr. Stark’ already?” Tony asked lightly, “and don’t worry, Kid, we have the best security on it, didn't you know that Happy is the Head of Security.” 

“Forehead of Security,” Peter corrected him quietly, “but no matter how good he is, there are cameras in the trees around your home, and tripwires, and other traps I couldn't quite decipher but could sense.”

“All put there by Happy,” Tony said. 

“By him?”

“Kiddo, we know you’d slip by those easily,” Tony said with a shrug, “you could probably pick up on an invisible bullet heading your way, but a regular person wouldn't be able to. Believe me, they’ve tried, why do you think they’re taking to helicopter?” 

“Oh,” Peter mumbled quietly, he felt some of the tension in his shoulders relax, “I’m really safe?” 

“I won’t let anything happen to you, not again,” Tony promised. 

Peter didn't say anything, he didn't tell Tony that his promise was already broken because he was living a life cursed to always be complicated; maybe he would always lose the people close to him, maybe he would always get close enough to save the people he loved only to fail at the last minute. Did he deserve it? Possibly, he had let his Uncle die after all, hadn't he? 

Tony couldn't promise that nothing would ever happen to Peter because he was a Parker and all Parker’s were cursed to live a life of death and despair. 

Peter stepped into the kitchen, half expecting to flinch back in shock at the cold tiles, but of course Mr. Stark had underfloor heating and for the first time in such a long time, Peter was  _ warm. _

“So, what’ll it be Champ?” Tony asked. 

“Champ?” Peter asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Too much?” 

“Just a little bit,” Peter said with a nod. 

“Noted,” Tony said before nodding to a stool for Peter to sit on, “now, I wanted to give you the fattiest, greasiest fry-up breakfast you could ever imagine, but Pepper reminded me that it would probably be a bad idea. I know things have been rough lately for you and you probably haven't had much to eat, so if we go straight in with the gigantic meals there’s a good chance they won’t be staying in your stomach for long.” 

Peter wrinkled his nose, “ew.” 

“Exactly,” Tony said with a nod, “so Pepper was talking about osmolarity and lactose and protein… and some other stuff, I don't know Kiddo, it was a lot. Basically, I think we just got to feed you like a baby.”

“Milk?”

“No, little and often,” Tony said with a snort, “and bland.”

“Bland?” Peter asked with a sigh, despite being desperate for a well-seasoned meal with all the grease and salt a person could fit on a plate, he was so hungry that he would be happy with a piece of raw carrot. 

“Sorry, Kid, but Pepper started going on about this thing called Refeeding Syndrome, and since you have a wacky metabolism she has genuinely scared me and we’re going to do this thing sensibly.” 

Sensible apparently meant a small plate of unseasoned, boiled vegetables and a small chicken breast. It was the best thing Peter had ever seen, he had to fight the urge to shovel it all in his mouth with his hands, he hadn't even realised how hungry he was until that moment. His hand shook as he held the fork. 

“Peter?” Tony sounded concerned, why would he have any reason to? 

Peter was fine, he was better than fine, he was great… so why was he crying? 

“I’m sorry,” Peter said through sniffles, “I don’t know why I’m crying, this is all so generous of you and I appreciate it, I really do, I just… I- I don't know.” 

“It’s alright, Pete,” Tony said, “really, you don't need to explain anything or apologise, I may not exactly get it, but I know that you need to take your time and adjust.” 

“I’m scared that everything is going to be ripped out from under my feet,” Peter admitted, “I can't take the time to adjust because I don't think anything is going to last.” 

“Nothing is going to be ripped away,” Tony said, but Peter knew that he couldn't promise that, no one could. 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know that anyone who wants to hurt you is going to have to get through me first,” Tony promised, and Peter… Peter believed him, “now come on, eat your veggies and I’ll help you back to bed.” 

“The workshop bed?” Peter asked. 

“No, we have the all clear on the curtain and blind situation and I think you deserve to see the room that’s been waiting for you all this time.” 

Peter grinned and shoved a forkful of green beans in his mouth. 

It didn't take long for him to find himself standing outside a simple-looking oak door with a matt silver doorknob, he reached out hesitantly with a shaking hand before pausing only an inch from the handle. He swallowed heavily. 

“You’re sure I’m allowed to go in?” Peter asked. 

“It’s your room,” Tony said, “are you sure I can come in with you?”

“It’s your house,” Peter said with a shrug. 

“But this is your space, you never have to let anyone you don't want in here,” Tony said, “and just because you let us come in one day, doesn't mean you have to let us in the next.”

“Really?”

“Really, now, whenever you're ready.” 

Peter opened the door and stepped into the room, he was surprised and pleased to find that it was relatively plain, subtly decorated with blue accents and a red duvet cover. On one of the shelves stood the picture that had been taken of Peter and Tony to make the internship story seem believable - that felt like a different lifetime. 

“I know there’s not much in it,” Tony said, flicking the light switch so the room was bathed in soft light, “but I wanted you to be able to make it your own, I didn't want you to walk into a room that felt like it belonged to someone you’re not.” 

“It’s perfect,” Peter admitted. 

Tony smiled, “there are some clothes in the drawers, and you’ll find a towel in the bathroom if you’re wanting to have a shower.” 

“Thank you,” Peter said earnestly. 

“Don't mention it, Kiddo,” Tony said, ruffling his hair, “I’ll let you settle in, you can just tell F.R.I. if you need me or anything.” 

“Alright,” Peter said softly, feeling overwhelmed by all the kindness he had been shown in such a short time. He barely even registered Tony leaving, closing the door gently behind him. 

\-----

“So, how is he?” Pepper asked quietly, handing Tony a mug of coffee as they heard the shower turn on upstairs, “and tell me the truth.”

“He’s a mess,” Tony said honestly, “he’s terrified that this isn't real or here to stay, he thinks the rug is going to be pulled out from under him at any moment, he thinks unseasoned green beans are the most delicious things in the world and he cries whenever he’s shown the slightest amount of human decency.” 

Pepper took a deep breath, “how could this happen?” 

“The world turned it's back on him,” Tony said, anger marring with sorrow, “he’s just a child who has done everything he possibly could to look out for those less fortunate than him, he’s always done his best for those who needed him and now he’s the one in need and no one cared.” 

“We’ll make them pay,” Pepper promised, “we’ll clear his name and make the world regret ever treating him like this.” 

“We will,” Tony said, “and in the meantime, we’ll remind him that he’s loved.”

“Are you going to talk to him?” Pepper asked. 

“Yes, but not tonight,” Tony said, “tonight I think he needs to rest and he can spend time with his family if he’s feeling up to it when he wakes up.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello all you wonderful people!! The response to that last chapter was overwhelming and greatly appreciated, so thank you all so so much!! Every comment, kudos, subscription etc warms my heart and makes me so happy <333
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Thank you again!!!


	9. Chapter 9

Peter listened to the sound of Tony’s footsteps retreating down the hallway and making their way to another part of the house, likely trying to give him privacy to sort himself out and rest, but Peter wanted to scream after him that he’d been all by himself for too long now, couldn't he just stay close-by? He couldn't do that though, it would be far too childish of him to ask Tony Stark to wait outside the bathroom door while he showered for the first time in months, just so he wouldn't have to feel alone and vulnerable. 

Instead of calling after his once mentor, Peter walked slowly around the room, taking as much of it in as he could - he never wanted to forget what it looked like, he tried his best to commit it to memory. Without realising, he found himself standing in front of the shelves that had the picture of him and Tony on, all of the other shelves were coated in a generous layer of dust but the one with the photo had thick grooves around the frame. 

Someone had picked up that photo and returned it numerous times; his mind supplied him with the image of Tony sighing to himself as he held the photo and sat down heavily on the bed, mourning a child who had died in his arms. Had this room been here the entire five years Peter had been gone? Had Tony known that he was going to reverse the effects of the stone someday? Or had he just been fueled by survivor’s guilt? 

_ “Are you alright?”  _ F.R.I.D.A.Y. asked gently, making Peter jump, he was no longer used to voices talking out of nowhere. 

“I uh, yeah,” Peter said, stumbling over his words, “I’m fine, I just-” 

_ “It’s a lot to take in,”  _ F.R.I.D.A.Y. said,  _ “would you like me alert someone to your distress?”  _

“No!” Peter said quickly, he’d already disrupted their lives enough, he couldn't have someone running to comfort him whenever he wasn't feeling one hundred percent, they’d never have a moment of peace from him, “thank you, F.R.I. but I’m fine, really, I’m just going to shower.” 

_ “If you say so,”  _ she said, and Peter was sure that if computer programs could shrug then she would have done so. 

The drawers that Tony had nodded towards when he’d mentioned clothes were more than just full, they were practically overflowing with brand new, designer branded clothing. It was too much, too generous, he hadn't even known for sure that Peter would ever use this room or the clothes in the drawers and yet… he had prepared in the hopes that he would. It warmed Peter’s heart and made him feel close to tears. 

Peter selected a pair of Star Wars pyjamas, unsurprised to find that they were exactly the right size, after all the effort Tony had put into the room, of course, he wouldn't slip up on something like that. 

“Where’s the- uh, the bathroom?” Peter asked hesitantly, out of practice with just speaking aloud to AIs. 

_ “That door oppose the bed leads to your bathroom,”  _ F.R.I.D.A.Y. supplied. 

His bathroom? 

Because of course, Tony wouldn't just build Peter his own bedroom, not without making it exceptionally elaborate with its own en suite. He would have been happy to share a bathroom, it’s all he had ever known until Tony did this for him. 

With shaking hands, Peter continued about his mission to remove the months of built-up grime from his body. The bathroom was just as beautifully simple and his bedroom was, with simple accents and modern decor. The hanging shelf in the shower was lined with expensive looking shampoos and shower gels in a mixture of scents so that Peter could choose whatever he preferred. 

With shaking hands he turned the water on, instantly it was the perfect temperature and he couldn't find any reason not to instantly submerge himself in the water, so he did, he stripped and left his old clothes in a pile in the corner - knowing that they wouldn't be fit for anything except the bin, and he jumped into the shower.

His muscles relaxed almost instantly under the soothing heat and he watched as the water turned a murky reddish-brown before it disappeared down the drain. How gross had he looked before? Why had Tony even let him lie in one of the beds? He’d probably have to destroy all the covers that Peter had used, they were likely beyond the point of being salvageable, and the odour… 

How had Tony even managed to hug him without screwing up his nose and gagging? He shook his head to himself and tried his best not to think about anything as he just let the water constantly pour over him.

\--- 

MJ rapped on the glass pane of the door a few times with her knuckles, listening to the muffled sounds of conversation from inside pause before someone peeked out through the curtains at the window to her side to see who was there. They were too quick to be sure, but she thought it may have been Ned’s mother. 

While she was pondering the brief flash of a face, the door opened suddenly, making her jump and skitter back a few steps as she was bathed in a soft light from the hallways and warmth flooded out.

“Why are you here?” Ned demanded to know, looking almost… angry? 

“I needed to speak with you,” she said quietly, noticing the curtains shift again out of the corner of her eyes. 

“You can’t, you need to leave,” he said, his voice rough and unusual sounding. 

“Ned, please I-” 

“Oh, Michelle, how wonderful to see you,” Mrs. Leeds said, appearing in the hallway behind Ned, “we were just saying how it’s been too long since we’ve seen you, we were getting worried.” 

“Hey, Mrs. Leeds, I was just hoping to catch up with Ned for a little bit,” MJ said, ignoring the glare that Ned was shooting her way - he was acting weird and she needed to get to the bottom of why. 

“Oh, yes, yes, do come in dear, it’s freezing out there tonight,” Mrs. Leeds said, giving Ned no choice but to step aside and let her into the hallway, “I don't know where this frost is coming from, it’s completely the wrong time of year for this, but then, we’ve been having a lot of strange storms lately this year.” 

“Yeah,” MJ said with a forced smile, as a plan to get Ned on his own presented itself in her mind, “it makes me feel bad for all the people out there without a home to go to, actually, I should really do some light protesting this weekend, do you want to come with me, Ned?” 

“Oh, be careful who you’re campaigning for out there, you can't truly know anyone,” Mrs. Leeds said, shaking her head, “I mean look at Spider-Man, it’s a good thing we found out who Peter really was before he got either of you two killed.”

“Peter wouldn't-” 

“You’re right, Mom,” Ned said, interrupting MJ with a small shake of his head, “we were luckier than some and I don't think I’ll go with you this weekend MJ, sorry.” 

“I’m just glad you’re home safe with your family,” his mother said with a fond smile, “now, why don’t you come in and have a seat, Michelle? I was baking earlier and I’d love your opinions on these snickerdoodle cookies I made.” 

“Of course,” MJ said uneasily. 

“Oh, lovely, I’ll just go get them then,” Mrs. Leeds smiled and disappeared down the hallway towards the kitchen, leaving MJ plenty of time to round on Ned and find out what the hell was going on. 

“You need to leave,” Ned said before she could even say anything, “I can make up an excuse, but you really have to go.” 

“Why?” she asked in confusion, “and why did you say that about Peter? You were there with me, surely you can't truly believe what people are saying about him?”

“What? No, of course I don't,” he said, “but because I knew him, the police force has promoted my dad, now he’s in charge of his own team and their main aim is to catch Peter, it’s changed everything he and my mom think of him. Now all they care about is trying to get Peter in cuffs so my dad won’t get demoted.” 

“So they’re using you to try and catch him?” MJ asked. 

“Yeah, and if you stick around, they’ll try to use you too,” Ned whispered, “like, I’m serious, dude, they’ve completely turned on Peter, I don't even know what they would do to him if he ever turned up.”

“They really aren’t clever are they?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Peter was avoiding us because he knows exactly what society thinks of him at the moment, he wouldn't approach us because he doesn't want anyone to turn on us because of our relationships with him,” MJ said, “he’s a self-sacrificial dumbass.”

“You’ve seen him,” Ned realised, “now you really have to go, please, MJ, if they find out you’ve had any contact at all your phone will be bugged and they’ll be watching you constantly, you won’t have a moment of peace, and if you think things are bad right now, then watch out because they can get so much worse.” 

“Ok, I’m going,” she said, pausing with her hand on the doorknob, “but, Ned, are you alright?” 

He gave her a sad smile, “I will be when this all blows over, even the worst days have to end, right?” 

“Right,” she said, wishing she could stay and comfort one of her best friends without risking Peter’s life, “I’m going to clear his name.”

“You can’t promise anything,” Ned said, opening the door for her. 

“I can,” she said surely, “and I am, I’m going to find that rebel group and I’m going to work with them and we’re going to save Peter.”

“I just hope you can find them before my dad does,” Ned said, looking very much as though he didn't believe her promises. Not that she could really blame him, she had no idea where to find a hidden rebel group. 

“I’ll see you again soon, Ned,” she promised. 

“Bye MJ.”

She walked away with a renewed sense of determination, Ned couldn't help her find the rebel group but that didn't mean that she couldn't do it on her own. Granted, the past few weeks had just been filled with her placing vague and random ads in newspapers that she hoped a member of the group would see and understand, and randomly googling stuff in Peter’s defence - that latter one she would only do in libraries, she couldn't risk anyone turning up at her home. 

She watched her breath appear in a white cloud in front of her face before dissipating into the air as she made her way down the street and away from Ned’s home. She hoped his excuse for her departure was a good one and that his family wouldn't accuse him of trying to get rid of her, after all, that’s exactly what happened. 

“What now?” she whispered, wishing that the Universe was listening to her, wishing that there was a plan she could follow. 

She knew that she needed to find the rebel group, but how could she do that when they were hiding so well? She hadn't even managed to find Peter, he had been the one to bump into her, completely by accident. So really, her finding people abilities were shockingly terrible. 

How could she find a hidden group without revealing herself to be supporting Peter? Did she have to just come out as a Spidey Supporter and live with the consequences? She would have done that, if it wasn't for the impact it would have on her family. If it was only her own life she was ruining it wouldn't even be a question for debate. 

She sighed, running a hand through her hair as she tried to formulate a plan, none would come to mind. 

“That was kinda dumb,” a voice she didn't recognise said from beside her, “I mean as far as dumb things go, that was definitely up there near the top.”

“What was?” MJ asked, narrowing her eyes and stepping away from the person who had fallen into step alongside her without her even realising. 

The girl’s eyes snapped to the movement of MJ’s feet and her lips quirked up into a slightly terrifying smile, this was a person who was either out for blood or fun and MJ wasn't sure which was right. 

“You’re wary of me,” the girl said, and even though she was small and the frizzy mass of vibrant red hair on her head barely reached MJ’s shoulders, she was right, “that’s smart, you don't know me, you have no idea what I may or may not be capable of, and these days there’s no way of saying who is safe and who isn't.” 

“Who are you?” MJ asked, refusing to step away again, was this girl challenging her? Was she going to mug MJ and leave her bleeding out in the street? 

“You can call me Inne,” the girl said, “and you’re Michelle.” 

MJ sighed and shook her head as she started to walk off. 

“Where are you going?” Inne called after her, not moving to follow.

“If you know who I am then you’re obviously looking for dirt on Spider-Man,” MJ said, “and I’m not going to stick around to give it to you, so you may as well try and find someone else who knew him.” 

“You think I’m a reporter?” Inne asked. 

“Or something,” MJ answered. 

“What if I’m not?” 

MJ paused, standing still in the street for a moment before turning back to face Inne. the girl was still standing where she had been left, not making any effort to follow or chase down her supposed story. 

“Not a reporter?” MJ asked, “makes sense, how about an intern?” 

Inne snorted, “I wouldn't be getting anyone coffee, thank you very much.” 

“Right, fine, whatever,” MJ muttered, done with the girl who seemed to think she was above an intern’s job, didn't she realise that the way MJ’s life had gone, she would be lucky to get a job as an intern.

“Wait, no, I’m sorry,” Inne said, “I shouldn't have been so- yeah, but really, I’m not here to try and steal your story or anything like that.” 

“I don't have a story to tell,” MJ said, “I’m not going to profit off…”

She couldn't finish her sentence, she didn't want to say too much. Inne pursed her lips and seemed to find something that she was looking for in MJ, she nodded to herself and smiled, an actual genuine smile that didn't make MJ’s bones shiver with discomfort. 

“I guess we should start again,” Inne said, “hi, I’m Inne, and I’m with The Ghosts.” 

“The… Ghosts?” MJ questioned.

“It’s a name one of our younger members came up with and it just stuck, y’know? Anyway, we heard you’ve been looking for us,” Inne said, “your ads?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we gooooo, so this chapter was mostly setting the scene for peter's adjustments and his trauma while moving us onto the rebel group ;) 
> 
> i hope you liked

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed, please let me know what you thought and maybe drop a kudos/comment and check me out @[ephemeralstark](https://ephemeralstark.tumblr.com/) :D


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